“‘I shore do,’ I answered, wondering what was up.
“‘Well, I go to town a lot, and it takes a h–l of a lot of gall to do it,’ he complained, looking so serious that it was funny.
“‘Gall!’ said I, surprised-like, and trying to keep my face straight. ‘Gall! Well, I can’t see that it takes such a brave man to call at a friend’s house when he’s been told to do it.’
“‘Oh, that part of it is all right,” he replied. ‘But she’ll think I only call to get my face fed, and it makes me feel like a–I don’t know what. You see, I always get away quick.’
“‘Well, stay longer, there ain’t no use of being in a hurry,’ I said. ‘Stay and talk a while.’
“‘Then they’ll think I ain’t got enough and push more pie at me, like they did once,’ he complained.
“‘Suppose I give Silent your terrible ordeal to do,’ I suggested tentatively, ‘or Bud, he’s dead anxious for your job.’
“‘Oh, it ain’t as bad as that!’ he cried quickly. ‘I only thought that I’d speak to you about it. I thought you could suggest something.’
“‘Well,’ I replied, ‘every time you call you say I sent you over to ask about the sheriff’s health. How’ll that do?’
“He grinned sheepishly and then swore: ‘H–l, that would make a shore enough mess of it,’ he cried. ‘I’d be a royal American idiot to say a thing like that, now, wouldn’t I?’”