"Confound it all, Rasp," cried the younger man, "that's the third time in the last ten minutes that you've called me Pug. My name is Pugh-- PUGH--Pugh." "'Taint," said the old fellow, roughly, "I ain't lived sixty year in the world, and don't know how to spell. PEW spells _pew_, and PUGH spells _pug_, with the H at the end and wi'out it, so you needn't tell me." "You obstinate old crab," said the other, good-humouredly, as he stopped him from making another dash at the poker. "There, be off, I'm very busy." "You allus are busy," growled the old fellow; "you'll get your brains all in a muddle wi' your figuring and drawing them new dodges and plans. No one thinks the better o' you, no matter how hard you works. It's my opinion, Mr Dutch--there, will that suit yer, as you don't like to be called Mr Pug?" "There, call me what you like, Rasp, you're a good, old fellow, and I shall never forget what you have done for me." "Bah! Don't talk stuff," cried the old fellow, snappishly. "Stuff, eh?" said the other, laughing, as he took up his compasses, and resumed his seat. "Leave--that--fire--alone!" he cried, seizing a heavy ruler, and shaking it menacingly as the old man made once more for the poker. "And now, hark here--Mrs Pugh says you are to come out to the cottage on Sunday week to dinner, and spend the day." "Did she say that? Did she say that, Mr Dutch?" cried the old man, with exultation. "Yes, she wants to have a long chat with the man who saved her husband's life." "Now, what's the good o' talking such stuff as that, Mr Pug?" cried the old man, angrily. "Save life, indeed! Why, I only come down and put a rope round you. Any fool could ha' done it." "But no other fool would risk his life as you did yours to save mine, Rasp," said the younger man, quietly. "But, there, we won't talk about it. It gives me the horrors. Now, mind, you're to come down on Sunday week." "I ain't comin' out there to be buttered," growled the old fellow, sourly. "Buttered, man?" "Well, yes--to be talked to and fussed and made much of by your missus, Master Dutch." "Nonsense!" "'Taint nonsense. There, I tell you what, if she'll make a contract not to say a word about the accident, and I may sit and smoke a pipe in that there harbour o' yourn, I'll come." "Arbour at this time of the year, Rasp?" laughed the younger man. "Why, it's too cold." "What's that to do wi' it? Just as if I couldn't stand cold. Deal better than you can heat." "Then I shall tell her you are coming, Rasp. What would you like for dinner?" "Oh, anything'll do for the likes o' me. I ain't particular." "No, but you may as well have what you like for dinner." "Oh, I ain't particular. Have just what you like. But if there was a morsel o' tripe on the way I might pick a bit." "Good!" said the other, smiling, "you shall have some tripe for dinner for one thing."