“Well, sir, I can give you a right good notion about that,” said Mortimer. “I expect I’m perty much the only man in town that could, too. You remember the time me and you went over to Athens City and took in the Athens City lodge’s excursion to Chicago? Well, remember somebody got us to go to a matinée show without any much cuttin’ up or singin’ in it, but we got so we liked it anyhow—and went back there again same night?”
“Yes, sir. Maude Adams.”
“Well, sir, it ain’t her, but that’s who she kind o’ put me in mind of. Carryin’ a blue parasol, too.”
Mr. Fuller at once set down the roll of wall-paper he was measuring, and came out from behind his counter.
“Where goin’, Ed?” Mortimer inquired, stretching himself elaborately, though somewhat surprised at Mr. Fuller’s abrupt action—for Mortimer was indeed capable of stretching himself in a moment of astonishment.
“What?”
“Where goin’?”
Mr. Fuller, making for the open, was annoyed by the question. “Out!” he replied.
“I got nothin’ much to do right now,” said the sociable Mortimer. “I’ll go with you. Where’d you say you was goin’, Ed?”
“Business!” Mr. Fuller replied crossly.