“Overpowerin’,” interrupted the old man, taking a sip from the vessel. “Yes, I don’t blame ye fur a wantin’ of it, but this yer licker air mine.”
“Up in Kentucky,” said Crane, “we are proud to offer——”
“Kaintucky! did ye say ole Kaintuck? Air ye from ther’, boy?”
The octogenarian leaned forward as he spoke and gazed at Crane with steadfast, rheumy eyes.
Miss Henrietta Stackpole came forward to hear what was to follow, her instinct telling her that a point of human interest was about to be reached.
“Yes,” said Crane, “I was born and reared on Lulbegrud creek.”
“Lulbegrud!”
“Yes.”
“How fur f’om Wright’s mill?”
“Close by, at Kiddville,” said Crane.