which lasted for half a minute.

"Babbies! Well I--ho! ho!--'scuse me, sir--but aw dear, aw dear!
Babbies! Bab--" Here he slapped his thigh and broke into another
roar, at the end of which he grew fairly black in the face.

"Bless yer innocent heart, sir! They'm a matter o' six foot high,
the both--and risin' forty. Dearlove's their name--and lives up the
river 'long wi' their sister--Peter an' Paul an' Tamsin (which es
short for Thom-a-si-na), an' I've heerd tell as the boys came nigh to
bein' chrisn'd Sihon an' Og, on'y the old Vicar said he'd be blowed
fust--very free wi' his langwidge was th' ould Vicar."

"I should fancy so," said Mr. Fogo; "but you'll excuse me if I don't
quite see, yet, why you advise me to call on these people."

"No offence, sir. On'y they owns Kit's House, that's all."

"I see; and Kit's House is the place you have in your mind."

"That's et, sir."

"And these Dearloves, where do they live?"

"Furder up the river by two mile."

"Could you row me up this afternoon to see them?"

Caleb Trotter rose, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth.