human
Dollops, he said quietly,
gpt
I wouldn't barter _this_ inheritance--of Love--which the good Lord has given me, for all the thrones and 'specturs' and 'crash-pots' that the world could hold. For true friendship is the best inheritance of all. But there are times when a man must be allowed to go down into the deeps of his memory and take a maudlin joy in counting over the hidden pearls there. I've no doubt you do it yourself, lad--and shed a tear in solitude for the days when you had a mother to care for you, and you weren't just a frightened little sinner of an orphan boy.
human
An' that's where you're dead wrong, sir, gave back Dollops with a vigorous nod of the head.
gpt
Fer I never does anyfink of the sort. Me muvver--Gawd 'elp 'er!--were a bruiser an' a footballer in one, an' there weren't an inch o' me poor little body which didn't 'ave a score of bruises upon it. As for me farver--well, I doesn't remember 'im, and no doubt it's a good fing, too.... No, sir, you've bin and gone and missed the bull's eye this time. I ain't no Wistful Willie, I ain't. You've been Muvver and Farver and Big Bruvver and all the whole darn Fambly ter me, an' if ever I finks o' the blinkin' parst, it's just that I didn't live clean and strite an'--an' _decent_, so's I could be a bit more worvy uv yer precious kindness.... Lord! listen ter me a-torkin' like a bloomin' sermonizer! But them's my sentiments--strite! An' so long as yer ain't wishin ter go back to--_them_----
human
No, I'm not wishing that at all, boy, said Cleek quietly, with an odd little smile.
gpt
So don't you worry your ginger head over such fool notions as that. The day I want to get rid of you all--Miss Lorne, yourself, and Mr. Narkom--is the day that sees me in my grave. And then I'll only be waiting to wring your hands across the Big Beyond. And if you ever mention royalties and 'specturs' and 'crash-pots' to me again, Dollops, I'll--I'll cut you out of my will.... Finished?
human
Yessir.
gpt
Well, then, come along upstairs and smoke a weed with me. Unless you've something better to do. I've need of a man's company to-night, for my mood's maudlin, and a chat over old times will straighten things out for me.
human
Then to himself:
gpt
Missin' Miss Ailsa, like any uvver bloomin' lovesick strain, thought Dollops to himself, with a shake of the head.
human
Well, orl I kin s'y is, Dollops me lad, it's a good thing you ain't in love yerself. You love yer tummy better'n the gels--and a fairer deal it is, too. Fer yer _can_ tell when you're proper fed up, and starve a bit in consequence. But the lydies!--well, they never lets yer leave 'em alone! 'E ain't 'ad no letter this mornin'--that's wot the trouble is, bless 'is 'eart!