“You got a fine store, mister,” says I.
“Yes,” says he.
“Do you own all of it?” I says, “or have you got a partner?”
He felt around till he got hold of his mustache and pulled at it careful so as not to pull any out. He couldn’t have spared much.
“Well,” says he, “to tell the truth I hain’t the proprietor. I’m just sort of manager. More money in that than ownin’ the store—and no risk.”
“Oh,” says I. “Who does own it, then?”
“Feller by the name of Skip.”
“Hain’t he ever here?”
“Sure. Just went to town, though. Important business.”
Hum! thought I, this is one of those talking jackasses. He’s all excited about what a man he is and he’ll just naturally lay himself out to make an impression.