"A parson."
"Two pennuth of tea and a tract. No thanks," he shook his head decidedly.
"He's not that kind. A man isn't bound to be an ass because he is a parson."
"You seem to have kind of taken charge of me," he said.
"I don't mean any harm," and then, for it was no time for facts, I added, "I like you, you are an awfully good sort, really."
"Me and the parson uncle," he said, and he gave a hoarse chuckle. "We should do well in double harness. I'd pull his head off in about ten minutes."
"May I ask him to call on you?"
"You'd better see what Hubert says. I'm only a dummy."
"A good big dummy," I answered, with the intention of taking myself off pleasantly.
"Oh, be rude. Trample on me, call me names," and then swelling out his chest and glaring at me, he added, "Hit me."