“I’m goin’ home,” he said, “an’ I guess I might ez well stop in at your place an’ tell your missus to never mind the chicken an’ waffles ez you’ve hed enough fun jest expectin’ ’em.”
“Well, that would be a good idee,” the Loafer drawled. “But you’d better jest yell it to her over the fence. You know she’s ben expectin’ chicken an’ waffles, too.”
The veteran dropped back to his place on the bench.
The Patriarch nudged him and said pleasantly, “Why don’t you go on?”
“I guesst I’d better wait fer the stage an’ git the news,” was the growling reply.
“You hain’t answered my first question yet,” said the Teacher to the Loafer. “You was standin’ there half an hour lookin’ at them mountains as though they was made of chicken an’ waffles. You were thinkin’ of somethin’.”
“True,” the Loafer replied. “I was thinkin’ o’ Reginal’ Deeverox an’ Lord Desmon.”
“Mighty souls!” the Patriarch cried. “Reginal’ Deeverox an’ Lord Desmon! You are the greatest man fer makin’ acquaintances I ever seen.”
“Deeverox was that new segare drummer that come th’oo here yesterday, wasn’t he?” the Tinsmith inquired.