ANNA--You said "ain't right" and you said it funny. Say, listen here, you ain't trying to insinuate that there's something wrong between us, are you? CHRIS--[Horrified.] No, Anna! No, Ay svear to God, Ay never tank dat! ANNA--[Mollified by his very evident sincerity--sitting down again.] Well, don't you never think it neither if you want me ever to speak to you again. [Angrily again.] If I ever dreamt you thought that, I'd get the hell out of this barge so quick you couldn't see me for dust. CHRIS--[Soothingly.] Ay wouldn't never dream--[Then, after a second's pause, reprovingly.] You vas gatting learn to svear. Dat ain't nice for young gel, you tank? ANNA--[With a faint trace of a smile.] Excuse me. You ain't used to such language, I know. [Mockingly.] That's what your taking me to sea has done for me. CHRIS--[Indignantly.] No, it ain't me. It's dat damn sailor fallar learn you bad tangs. ANNA--He ain't a sailor. He's a stoker. CHRIS--[Forcibly.] Dat vas million times vorse, Ay tal you! Dem fallars dat vork below shoveling coal vas de dirtiest, rough gang of no-good fallars in vorld! ANNA--I'd hate to hear you say that to Mat. CHRIS--Oh, Ay tal him same tang. You don't gat it in head Ay'm scared of him yust 'cause he vas stronger'n Ay vas. [Menacingly.] You don't gat for fight with fists with dem fallars. Dere's oder vay for fix him. ANNA--[Glancing at him with sudden alarm.] What d'you mean? CHRIS--[Sullenly.] Nutting. ANNA--You'd better not. I wouldn't start no trouble with him if I was you. He might forget some time that you was old and my father--and then you'd be out of luck. CHRIS--[With smouldering hatred.] Vell, yust let him! Ay'm ole bird maybe, but Ay bet Ay show him trick or two. ANNA--[Suddenly changing her tone--persuasively.] Aw come on, be good. What's eating you, anyway? Don't you want no one to be nice to me except yourself? CHRIS--[Placated--coming to her--eagerly.] Yes, Ay do, Anna--only not fallar on sea. But Ay like for you marry steady fallar got good yob on land. You have little home in country all your own-- ANNA--[Rising to her feet--brusquely.] Oh, cut it out! [Scornfully.] Little home in the country! I wish you could have seen the little home in the country where you had me in jail till I was sixteen! [With rising irritation.] Some day you're going to get me so mad with that talk, I'm going to turn loose on you and tell you--a lot of things that'll open your eyes. CHRIS--[Alarmed.] Ay don't vant-- ANNA--I know you don't; but you keep on talking yust the same. CHRIS--Ay don't talk no more den, Anna. ANNA--Then promise me you'll cut out saying nasty things about Mat Burke every chance you get. CHRIS--[Evasive and suspicious.] Vhy? You like dat fallar--very much, Anna? ANNA--Yes, I certainly do! He's a regular man, no matter what faults he's got. One of his fingers is worth all the hundreds of men I met out there--inland. CHRIS--[His face darkening.] Maybe you tank you love him, den?