“Um-m-m,” he grunted savagely, applying a watery eye to the round window.
“Nothing,” answered the fat lady, quite satisfied at having her worst fears confirmed.
Chugg returned to his driving, as one not above the weakness of seeing and hearing things.
“’Tain’t coffee.”
“Could you smell it?” questioned Mary, anxiously.
“You never can tell that way, when they are plumb pickled in it, like him.”
“Then how did you know it wasn’t coffee?”
“His eyes had fresh watered.”
Mary collapsed under this expert testimony. “What are we going to do about it?”
“Appeal to him as a gentleman,” said the fat lady, not without dramatic intonation.