“Yes, but then I shan't care. If there ain't NO boots in sight; I'll go barefoot or stay at home. It's the kind of responsibleness that goes with havin' one boot that's wearin' me out. Where IS Jerry?”
“He went out to feed Lorenzo. I heard him callin' a minute ago. That cat ain't been home sence noon, and Jerry's worried.”
A stentorian shout of “Puss! puss! Come, kitty, kitty, kitty!” came from somewhere outside. Captain Eri smiled.
“I'm 'fraid Lorenzo's gittin' dissipated in his old age,” he observed. Then, as a fat gray cat shot past the door, “There he is! Reg'lar prodigal son. Comes home when the fatted ca'f's ready.”
A moment later Captain Jerry appeared, milk pitcher in hand. He entered the dining room and, putting the pitcher down on the table, pulled forward the armchair with the painted sunset on the back, produced his own pipe, and proceeded to hunt through one pocket after the other with a troubled expression of countenance.
“Where in tunket is my terbacker?” he asked, after finishing the round of pockets and preparing to begin all over again.
“I see it on the top of the clock a spell ago,” said Captain Perez.
“Was that yours, Jerry?” exclaimed Captain Eri. “Well, that's too bad! I see it there and thought 'twas mine. Here 'tis, or what's left of it.”
Captain Jerry took the remnant of a plug from his friend and said in an aggrieved tone:
“That's jest like you, Eri! Never have a place for nothin' and help yourself to anything you happen to want, don't make no odds whose 'tis. Why don't you take care of your terbacker, same's I do of mine?”