“Hey, Windfeller!” [[169]]
“Yes, sir,” the Harmony Hustler promptly called back.
“Be you wantin’ canned-cherry sauce fur supper, or mincemeat pie?”
“I—aw—am very partial to pie, sir.”
Scoop was holding his stomach.
“Oh!…” he groaned in my ear. “Can you smell the ham, Jerry?”
“Don’t talk about it,” I whispered back, in added misery.
“And mincemeat pie!”
“Shut up.”
“If I don’t get something to eat pretty soon,” he groaned, “I’m done for.”