He went around, and I returned to the sitting room, where Cherry had started another piece.
“Do you have many tramps?” asked she when she had finished.
“Not many. They are too lazy to climb the hills. I think he is only the third one this summer. He was awful looking. Did you see him?”
“No,” said Ethel and Cherry together.
“What a life! Probably not a wish in the world but for food and drink.”
My moralizing was cut short by the return of the tramp. In his right hand he held a sandwich and with his left he was wiping milk from his moustache.
As he passed the window he beckoned to me, who was sitting by it.
I supposed that he wanted money, and went out.
“Say, boss,” said he, “I’m pretty far gone, but you didn’t set the dog on me, and I want you to ask that young lady in there a favour.”
“What is it?”