'Go to the devil!'
'You are not very civil, I think,' remarked Tom.
'Civil enough for YOU,' retorted Jonas. 'Who are you?'
'One who has as good a right to common consideration as another,' said
Tom mildly.
'You're a liar,' said Jonas. 'You haven't a right to any consideration.
You haven't a right to anything. You're a pretty sort of fellow to talk
about your rights, upon my soul! Ha, ha!--Rights, too!'
'If you proceed in this way,' returned Tom, reddening, 'you will oblige
me to talk about my wrongs. But I hope your joke is over.'
'It's the way with you curs,' said Mr Jonas, 'that when you know a man's
in real earnest, you pretend to think he's joking, so that you may turn
it off. But that won't do with me. It's too stale. Now just attend to me
for a bit, Mr Pitch, or Witch, or Stitch, or whatever your name is.'
'My name is Pinch,' observed Tom. 'Have the goodness to call me by it.'
'What! You mustn't even be called out of your name, mustn't you!' cried
Jonas. 'Pauper' prentices are looking up, I think. Ecod, we manage 'em a
little better in the city!'
'Never mind what you do in the city,' said Tom.
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