“... and the hares are as big as foxes....”
“God a mercy!” said Mr. James.
“... yes, and a fox was big and brown and white like a skewbald donkey—he! he! he! And oo yes,” continued Polly, shrilling with excitement, “there was a king badger as would stop your eyes from winking if you met him walking in the dawn!”
“Lord, what should the man be doing telling you them lies,” ejaculated Timothy, now wiping his chin on the napkin. “Did he give you that cup, Piff?”
“Yes,” replied the barber, “and if what he says is true there’s a power o’ miracle in it.”
The butcher surveyed it cautiously and read the inscription:
NE SAMBRA DIVORNAK
“That’s a bit o’ Roosian, I should say,” he remarked as he and Gregory left the saloon.
Polly picked up her empty can and looked at Mr. P.
“Won’t he come back no more?”