A Chance Meeting

"Mr. Garnick," he said at last.

"From ch--chicken farm," he continued, with the triumphant air of a cross-examining King's counsel who has at last got on the track.

"Yes," I said.

"Up top the hill," he proceeded, clinchingly. He stretched out a huge hand.

"How you?" he inquired with a friendly grin.

"I want to know," I said distinctly, "what you've got to say for yourself after letting our affair with the professor become public property?"

He paused awhile in thought.

"Dear sir," he said at last, as if he were dictating a letter, "dear sir, I owe you--ex--exp----"

He waved his hand, as who should say, "It's a stiff job, but I'm going to do it."

"Explashion," he said.

"You do," said I grimly. "I should like to hear it."

"Dear sir, listen me."

"Go on then."

"You came me. You said 'Hawk, Hawk, ol' fren', listen me. You tip this ol' bufflehead into watter,' you said, 'an' gormed if I don't give 'ee a poond note.' That's what you said me. Isn't that what you said me?"

I did not deny it.

" 'Ve' well,' I said you. 'Right,' I said. I tipped the ol' soul into watter, and I got the poond note."