"Yes, I can. You know very well I never set up to be a scholar, same as you. By rights you're the scratch boat on this handicap, yet you tried to steal allowance. I thought you'd a-been a better sportsman."
"My goin' to Benny," urged Cai sophistically, "was a case of one eddicated man consultin' another, as is frequently done."
"Oh, is it? Well, you done it pretty thoroughly, I must say."
"Whereas your goin' was a clean case o' tryin' to pass off goods that weren't your own, or anything like it. . . . Come, I'll put it to you another way. Supposin' your letter had worked the trick, and she'd said 'yes' on the strength of it—I'm puttin' this for argyment's sake, you understand?"
"Go on."
"And supposin' one day, after you was married, she'd come to you and said, ''Bias, I want a letter written. I thought o' writin' it myself, but you're such a famous hand at a letter.' A nice hole you'd a-been in!"
"No, I shouldn'. I'd say, 'You rate me too high, my dear. Still,' I'd say, 'if you insist upon it, you just scribble down the main points on a sheet o' paper, and I'll take a walk and think it over.' Then I'd carry it off to Benny." 'Bias, who so far had held the better of the argument by keeping his temper, clinched his triumph with a nod and refilled his pipe.
"Benny's an old man, and might die at any moment," objected Cai.
"Now you're gettin' too far-fetched altogether. . . . Besides, 'twouldn't be any affair o' yours—would it?—after I'm married to her."
"Well, you won't be—now: and no more shall I," said Cai bitterly.
"Benny's seen to that!"