Johnnie?" said Augusta, sweetly ignoring
the garnishing with which the promise was adorned; and on Mr. Johnnie
stating that he looked at it in that light, she returned to Mr. Meeson.
On her way she met Bill, carrying in his hands a loathsome-looking fish,
with long feelers and a head like a parrot, in short, a cuttle-fish.
"Now, here's luck, Miss," said Bill, exultingly; "I saw this gentleman
lying down on the beach there this morning. He's a cuttle, that's what he
is; and I'll have his ink-bag out of him in a brace of shakes; just the
ticket for tattooing, Miss, as good as the best Indian-ink--gunpowder is
a fool to it."
By this time they had reached Mr. Meeson, and here the whole
matter, including Johnnie's obstinate refusal to be tattooed was
explained to Bill.
"Well," said Augusta at length, "it seems that's the only thing to be
done; but the question is, how to do it? I can only suggest, Mr. Meeson,
that the will should be tattooed on you."
"Oh!" said Mr. Meeson, feebly, "on me! Me tattooed like a
savage--tattooed with my own will!"
"It wouldn't be much use, either, governor, begging your pardon," said
Bill, "that is, if you are agoing to croak, as you say; 'cause where
would the will be then? We might skin you with a sharp stone, perhaps,
after you've done the trick, you know," he added reflectively.
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