Having thus delivered himself he resumed his seat, leaving me, I imagine, more scared than otherwise.
"What do you want?" asked he again, after a pause of a moment or so.
"Permission to visit Mr. Smith."
Without condescending to notice for the time my request he gave the interview a rather ludicrous turn, I thought, by questioning me somewhat after this manner:
"Can you dance, Mr. Flipper?"
Having answered this to his entire satisfaction, he further asked:
"Expect to attend the hops this summer?"
"Oh no, sir," replied I, smiling, as he also was, for I had just discovered the drift of his questions. After mischievously studying my countenance for a moment, he returned to the original subject and queried, "Where do you want to go?"
I told him.
"Well, get out of my sight."