Mr. Stott shrugged a shoulder and his tolerant look said plainly that, after all, one should not expect too much of a man who had begun life as a "breaker-boy."
"The squee-rrel or coyote or whatever it was," Mrs. Stott continued, "went pitter-patter, pitter-patter—so!" She illustrated with her finger-tips on the oil-cloth.
"Prob'ly a chipmunk," said Pinkey, prosaically.
"Are they dangerous, Mr. Fripp?" inquired Miss Gaskett.
"Not unless cornered or wounded," he replied, gravely.
This was a joke, obviously, so everybody laughed, which stimulated Pinkey to further effort. When Mr. Hicks poured his cup so full that the coffee ran over he remarked facetiously:
"It won't stack, cookie."
Coffee-pot in hand, Mr. Hicks drew himself up majestically and his eyes withered Pinkey.
"I beg to be excused from such familiarity, and if you wish our pleasant relations to continue you will not repeat it."
"I bet I won't josh him again," Pinkey said, ruefully, when Mr. Hicks returned to the kitchen in the manner of offended royalty.