"Corn salve is spelled only one way," says he.
"That's right," I says, "and you'd think I orter be able to pick out a common, ordinary thing like corn salve right off, wouldn't you?"
"Danny," he says, "you don't mean to tell me you can't read anything at all?"
"I never told you nothing of the kind."
He picks out a label.
"If you can read so fast, what's that?" he asts.
She is a pink one. I thinks to myself; she either is corn salve or else she ain't corn salve. And it ain't natcheral he will pick corn salve, fur he would think I would say that first off. So I'm betting it ain't. I takes a chancet on it.
"That," says I, "is mighty easy reading. That is Siwash Injun Sagraw." I lost.
"It's corn salve," he says. "And Great Scott! They call this the twentieth century!"
"I never called it that," says I, sort o' mad-like. Fur I was feeling bad Doctor Kirby had found out I was such a ignoramus.