"Did ye ever smoke?" he asked Eben, who was standing at the wheel.
"Naw. I tried it once, but it made me sick. Dad licked me fer it, too."
"My, ye miss a lot in life," and Grimsby gave a sigh of satisfaction as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "Smoking is a great soother of the nerves, it certainly is."
"Ma doesn't like terbaccer," Eben volunteered. "She says it smells up the house awful. Flo says she'll never marry a man who smokes."
"She won't, eh?" and Grimsby laughed outright. "I s'pose she'll make her husband buy her chocolates instead."
"Most likely. Flo's mighty fond of choc'lates. She'd eat 'em all the time if she could git 'em. She's allus beggin' me to bring her a box every time we come from the city."
"She's just like all girls; they like sweet things. That's the reason,
I guess, they like me. I'm always sweet with the girls. It pays.
Hand me that grip, will yon? I want to show you something I've got for
a pretty girl."
Eben reached over, and handed the grip to Grimsby. The latter slowly opened it, and brought forth a box, wrapped up in paper. He untied the string, and held forth a box of chocolates for Eben's inspection.
"Like one, eh?"
"Y'bet. Me mouth's waterin'."