"Yes," replied Short, who waited till the glass was refilled, and did
the same.
"Here's bad luck to him in his own good stuff," said Smallbones, tossing
off a third glass, and, filling it again, he handed it to Coble.
"Here's reformation to him," said Coble, draining the glass again.
"Yes," replied Short, taking the replenished vessel.
"Here's d----n to him and his dog for ever and ever, Amen," cried
Smallbones, tippling off his second allowance.
"Who's there?" said Vanslyperken in a faint voice, opening his eyes
with a vacant look.
Smallbones replaced the bottle in the cupboard, and replied, "It's only
Smallbones, sir, and the mates, come to help you."
"Smallbones!" said Vanslyperken, still wandering. "Smallbones is
drowned--and the whole pot of black paint."
"Conscience," said Short.
"Carving-knife," rejoined Coble.
"Carving-knife!" said Vanslyperken, raising himself up; "I never said a
word about a carving-knife, did I? Who is it that I see? Short--and
Coble--help me up. I've had a sad fall. Where's Smallbones? Is he
alive--really alive?"
"I believe as how I bees," replied Smallbones.
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