The young gentleman in brown interrupted him. “You're mistaken,” he said, “I was never there.” Then, turning to his friend, he added, with an elaborate “Josh Whitcomb” accent: “Monty, 'taters must be lookin' up. All aour folks have come to town to spend their money.”
Monty, upon whom, like his companion, the second cocktail—second in this particular sense—there had been others—seemed to be having some effect, laughed uproariously. Even the joker himself deigned to smile. Captain Dan did not smile. He had risen, preparatory to leaving the table; now he slowly sat down again.
“I guess I WAS mistaken,” he said gravely. “I guess you're right about my not havin' seen you before. If I had I wouldn't have forgot where.”
Monty evidently thought it his turn to be funny.
“You have a good memory, haven't you, Deacon?” he observed.
The captain looked at him.
“That don't necessarily follow, young man,” he said. “There's some things you CAN'T forget.”
There was a choking sound at the next table; a stout man there seemed to be having trouble in swallowing. Those with him looked strangely happy, considering.
“Tacks” frowned, pushed back his chair and stood up.
“Come on, Monty,” he growled. “This place is going to the dogs. They let ANYTHING in here now.”