“I nuver even heerd o’ sech a place. I better be goin’, sir, and not takin’ up your time no longer.”
“I am not in any hurry, although I see that you are. Yet I don’t understand why. You have no engagement with friends, have you?”
“Not a friend in the hull cussed place, darn hit! In that country you’re talkin’ about, sir, that West Virginny, is hit, I bet thar don’t nobuddy go starvin’ in the streets, does they?” wistfully.
“No, never, my man! There’s bread and work for all in my dear old native State!” cried the young physician with the kindling pride of the native born, and continuing:
“I could have almost sworn you were from my own State! You have the Southern twang to your voice and some of the mountains idioms. Besides, your face and voice are strangely familiar, and I almost seem to have known you before. What is your name?”
“Hit’s—hit’s—plain Smith, stranger—John Smith.”
Doctor Ludington gave one of his genial laughs, and exclaimed:
“Your name is even more familiar than your face—perfectly familiar! But as there are more John Smiths than one, I am still unable to place you.”
“I sw’ar, stranger, you nuver seen me before this night!” John Smith returned desperately, still with his eager eyes on the door through which he could not escape, because his benefactor’s broad back leaned carelessly against it.
“Have you ever seen me before?” continued the doctor carelessly.