I am not a tale-bearer, and I despise all
meanness. You quite mistake me. Ah!' cried Tom, indignantly. 'Is this
manly from one in your position to one in mine? Please to make room for
me to pass. The less I say, the better.'
'The less you say!' retorted Jonas, dangling his legs the more, and
taking no heed of this request. 'You say very little, don't you? Ecod, I
should like to know what goes on between you and a vagabond member of my
family. There's very little in that too, I dare say!'
'I know no vagabond member of your family,' cried Tom, stoutly.
'You do!' said Jonas.
'I don't,' said Tom. 'Your uncle's namesake, if you mean him, is no
vagabond. Any comparison between you and him'--Tom snapped his fingers
at him, for he was rising fast in wrath--'is immeasurably to your
disadvantage.'
'Oh indeed!' sneered Jonas. 'And what do you think of his deary--his
beggarly leavings, eh, Mister Pinch?'
'I don't mean to say another word, or stay here another instant,'
replied Tom.
'As I told you before, you're a liar,' said Jonas, coolly. 'You'll stay
here till I give you leave to go.
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