“Nonsense!” says Kinderhook. “I know that churn well. They are wholly dissimilar.”
“Then my eyesight is gone,” says Captain Winton, sort of short and stern.
“Supposin’ we take out the dasher of Kinderhook’s churn,” says Mr. Atkins, and, while Kinderhook kicked about it and began to look pretty worried, they took it out, and then Mr. Atkins pointed to a place on the metal shaft and handed it to Captain Winton. The captain took one look and then he turned to Kinderhook.
“How do you account for this,” says he, “on a churn you invented, yourself, last April?”
“What?” says Kinderhook.
“It says—and on your own churn-dasher, too—‘Patented June 23, 1916. The Criterion Churn Company, Albany, New York.’”
“I kin tell you how he accounts for it,” says Mr. Atkins. “It’s carelessness on his part, that’s what it is. When he bought this Criterion churn he’s claimin’ for his invention—over in Litchfield a few days ago—he painted it up red, white, and blue, so as to cover up the printing on the churn, but he didn’t figger far enough to see if there was anythin’ stamped on the metal parts inside. Jest carelessness, I’d say, and very reprehensible sich carelessness is, especial in a feller that calc’lates to swindle a whole town!”
“Swindle!” yelled Mr. Kinderhook.
“That there is the i-dentical word,” says Mr. Atkins.
Then Kinderhook rushed at Mr. Atkins, but Mr. Atkins just give a shove that near upset him, and the crowd, who hadn’t heard what was going on, began to growl and make noises, and Kinderhook rushed again to the front of the platform and began to talk; but Mr. Atkins went and reached for his collar and jerked him back till he sat down kerplunk on the seat of his pants.