And then I burst out laughing. I could not carry the farce a bit further. "Major," said I, "the reason why I know all about this Wilberforce Jenkins and his general unreliability is very simple—I am Wilberforce Jenkins myself."
The old gentleman gasped. His face was a study for a moment, and then with a great laugh he sprang to his feet, and seized me by the arm. "Here, Bangs," he said, "get your hat and come along with me! We'll eat at Delmonico's."
"But you said just now you wouldn't take lunch with me," I protested.
"Yes, but by Simeon," he retorted, "I never said that you wouldn't take lunch with me, and by the Eternal you'll come or I'll carry you!"
And the only hatchet that ever threatened our friendship was buried on the instant.
Major Pond was indeed a rare and a loyal spirit. He always credited James Redpath with being the Father of the Modern Lyceum, and perhaps he was right. The Modern Lyceum owes much to James Redpath; but as for me I prefer to award its paternal honors to Major Pond. His interest in it, and his affectionate attitude toward those he helped along its sometimes rugged path, were too strictly fatherly to warrant any lesser title at the hands of one of its most grateful sons.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Various punctuation errors have been corrected without comment.
Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest paragraph break.