“Y’u likely got samples with y’u?”
“Well, not many. You see my line is so well known I don’t have to carry samples any more. The trade knows our goods.”
“Stop at Kildare on the way up?” and the stranger looked about guardedly.
“Certainly, my friend, I always ‘make’ Kildare,” replied Ardmore, using a phrase he had acquired at breakfast.
“Train runs through the’ pretty late at night?”
“Beastly. But I hardly ever sleep, anyhow. A man in my splendid health doesn’t need sleep. It’s a rotten waste of time.”
Silence for several minutes; then the stranger leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, and said in a low tone,—
“I got a telegram hyeh says y’u got a jug thet y’u ain’t no right t’ last night at Kildare. I want thet jug, young fella.”
“Now that’s very unfortunate. Ordinarily I should be delighted, but I really couldn’t give away my Kildare jug. Now if it was one of my other jugs—even my Omaha jug or my dear old Louisville jug—I shouldn’t hesitate a minute, but that old Kildare jug! My dear man, you don’t know what you ask!”
“Y’ll give me thet jug, or it’ll be the worse for y’u. Y’u ain’t in thet game, young fella.”