"You did," said the town marshal, straightening up. "You dropped your umbrell' ag'in, Sue," he added. "Yes, sir, my name's Crow."
Miss Becker waited a few seconds and then picked up the parasol.
"The celebrated Anderson Crow?" asked the man with the glasses, opening his eyes a little wider.
"The celebrated Anderson Crow?" asked the man with the glasses
Mr. Crow suddenly remembered that he was in his shirt-sleeves. His faded blue sack-coat—"undress," he called it—hung limp and neglected on the gate-post.
"More or less," he admitted, wishing to goodness he had on his best pair of "galluses" instead of the ones he was wearing.