Throwing caution to the winds, I drew close behind the woman, and heard the introduction of Camp and the case stated briefly.
Smug had ventured to bring this chance acquaintance, etc., who desired a like favour to that conferred upon himself not long since. Mr. Camp desired to exchange a banknote, say ten or twenty dollars, perhaps, for smaller bills, for convenience at the Fair, etc.
The man of the badge looked closely at Farmer Camp, who was bowing like a mandarin, and then back at his spouse.
'You can vouch for this person?' he asked with a touch of severity, and in excellent English.
'Pardon me; we are mere passing acquaintances, but I should think——'
He of the badge drew himself up with a stately gesture.
'We are not permitted to judge for ourselves,' he said; 'our Government require some sort of voucher, as, for instance, a bank certificate, cheque-book, even a receipt or letter.'
Before Farmer Camp could pull himself together and reply, his wife interfered, taking a swift step forward.
'If you want dockyments, mister,' she said tartly, 'I guess I kin supply 'em. I've brought our weddin' stiffykit, and our letters from the church to Neeponsit, and our fire insurance papers.' She laid a suggestive satin-gloved hand upon her bosom and tossed her head. 'I didn't count on nobody's takin' us to be anybody else when I brung 'em, but I didn't want 'em lost, case of fire or anything.'
The 'agent' put up a remonstrant hand, and Camp hastened to produce a letter from his brother in Nebraska, which was gracefully accepted; and so overpowered was Camp at so much condescension that he opened a plump wallet—carried in a breast pocket high up, and evidently of home manufacture—and drew from it, after some deliberation and a whispered word with his wife, a one hundred dollar bill.