“You’re very clever,” assured Guy with laughing sarcasm. “But suppose the fellow comin’ your way is a green one, like me—what then?”
“I’ve got to be smart enough for both. There—see? If that guy hadn’t known ’is business, you’d both had your headlights pushed in.”
The American youth’s awkwardness produced a choleric grunt from a portly individual who proved to be surprisingly agile. Artie caught his companion by the sleeve and jerked him aside. The pass was effected without a touch.
“You’ll learn how to do it after a few more narrow escapes,” assured the hotel clerk. “Take this advice—never get excited and always turn to the left.”
“To the left?”
“Yes, haven’t you noticed? Everybody takes the left side of the sidewalk here, and the drivers take the left side of the street.”
“I thought there was something funny, but I didn’t figure out what it was,” laughed Guy. “This is where everybody stands on his head, isn’t it?”
“If it is, we hop along on our hair pretty well, don’t we? You know the man ’at uses his head to get along in the world, gets along a lot better.”
“Don’t people who live here ever get lost in the fog?”
“No, that’s another case of usin’ our head, or part of it. We smell directions here. Didn’t you ever hear that an Englishman can make his nose work farther than any other nationality on earth?”