Tooth-Mug Tea

"My friend Mr. McGolwey--I knew him in Schoenstrom--come on to Seattle
for a while. Bill, these are some people I met along the road," Milt
grumbled.

"Glad to meet 'em. Have a chair. Have two chairs! Say, Milt, y'ought to
have more chairs if you're going to have a bunch of swells coming to
call on you. Ha, ha, ha! Say, I guess I better pike out and give the
folks a chance to chin with you," Bill fondly offered.

"Oh, sit down," Milt snapped at him.

They all sat down, four on the bed; and Milt's inner ear heard a mute
snicker from the Gilsons and Saxton. He tried to talk. He couldn't. Bill
looked at him and, perceiving the dumbness, gallantly helped out: "So you met the kid on the road, eh? Good scout, Milt is. We always used
to say at Schoenstrom that he was the best darn hand at fixing a flivver
in seven townships."

"So you knew Mr. Daggett at home? Now isn't that nice," said Mrs.
Gilson.

"Knew him? Saaaaay, Milt and I was brung up together. Why, him and I
have bummed around together, and worked on farms, summers, and fished
for bull-heads---- Ever catch a bull-head? Damnedest slipperiest fish
you ever saw, and got horns that sting the stuffin's out of you and----
Say, I wonder if Milt's told you about the time we had at a barn-dance
once? There was a bunch of hicks there, and I says, 'Say, kid, lez
puncture their tires, and hide back of the manure pile, and watch the
fun when they come out.' I guess maybe I was kind of stewed a little,
tell the truth, but course Milt he don't drink much, hardly at all, nice
straight kid if I do say so----"