"What do you say, Mr. Moonshine?" Tim said.
The moonshee shook his head. Between these two a perpetual feud had
existed, ever since the native had arrived at Arcot, to take his place
as a member of Charlie's establishment. In obedience to Charlie's
stringent orders, Tim never was openly rude to him; but he never lost
an opportunity of making remarks, of a disparaging nature, as to the
value of Charlie's studies.
The moonshee, on his part, generally ignored Tim's existence
altogether; addressing him, when obliged to do so, with a ceremonious
civility which annoyed Tim more than open abuse would have done.
"I think," he said gravely, in reply to Tim's demand; "that the very
worshipful one would have most chance of escaping detection if he went
in rags, throwing dust on his hair, and passing for one afflicted."
"And what does he mean by afflicted, Mr. Charles?" the Irishman said
wrathfully, as the two young officers laughed.
"He means one who is a born fool, Tim."
Tim looked furiously at the moonshee.
"It would," the latter said sententiously, "be the character which the
worshipful one would support with the greatest ease."
"The black thief is making fun of me," Tim muttered; "but I'll be aven
with him one of these days, or my name isn't Tim Kelly.
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