"Oh, no, ye didn't know him. Expected to find him a reg'lar country gentleman, eh? With tan shoes, pants all creased down in front, big panyma hat, an' smokin' a ten-cent cigar."
The girl's cheeks were scarlet as she listened to this charge, which she knew was absolutely true. Then the humor of the situation dawned upon her, and a smile wreathed her face.
"Will you forgive me, Mr. Andrews?" she asked. "I have been cruelly rude."
"But what about me head and shoulders?" Abner queried. "Will ye'r sweet apology cure the lumps ye made with that confounded whip?"
"Perhaps not, but when we get home I shall attend to your bruises with my own hands."
"Ye'll only make 'em worse," Abner growled.
"Say, Mr. Andrews," the policeman interposed, "I've a good mind to arrest you."
"Arrest me! Why?"
"As an idiot."
"Idiot!" Abner was staring hard now at the guardian of the law.