"Which you sure gripped with both mitts, bo!"
"Now have a cigar—in that coat pocket—"
"Not me, Geoff! Smoke's bad for th' wind, that's why I've took t' gum." Saying which, the Spider proceeded to take out and open a packet of that necessary adjunct, and having posted it into his mouth piece by piece, fell to grim mastication.
"Bo," said he suddenly, "you come away without your roof last night."
"Eh?" said Ravenslee, blinking drowsily, "my what?"
"Your lid, bo."
"You mean my old hat?"
"That's what I'm tryin' t' tell you—an' say, that sure is the hardest bean cover I ever spotted; made of iron, is it? Where'd you find it?"
"At some dim and distant day it originated in England, I believe."
"Well, that lid would turn a poleaxe, sure; that's why I brought it back—it's out on the fire escape now."