“Don’t let mother see those shoes.”
“What’s the matter with ’em? Everybody’s wearing the same.”
“Yes. But I don’t see how you manage to do it. One shoe-string is virgin white and the other is pagan brown.”
“I’ve got nine pairs of shoes, and yet there’s always something the matter,” ruefully. “I never noticed when I put them on. Besides, I wasn’t coming.”
“That’s no defense. But rest easy. I’ll be as secret as the grave.”
“Now, I for one would never have noticed if you hadn’t called my attention,” said the padre, stealing a glance at his own immaculate patent-leathers.
“Ah, Padre, that wife of mine has eyes like a pilot-fish. I’m in for it.”
“Borrow one from the colonel before you go home,” suggested Abbott.
“That’s not half bad,” gratefully.
Harrigan began to recount the trials of forgetfulness.