“Was these here some o’ your pap’s friends?” asked the Patriarch.
“I only wished he hed ’a’ knowd them,” the Loafer answered. “I don’t think he did tho’. Mebbe he was acquainted with Alice Fairfax, but I never heard him speak o’ her an’ The Home an’ Fireplace never mentioned him ez bein’ at her castel. I guessed ef Pap hed ’a’ been there he would ’a’ told me, fer he wasn’t much on keepin’ things secret.”
The Patriarch brought his stick down on the floor with a vigorous bang.
“See here,” he cried, “what has got into you anyway? Ef you knows anything about this here Lord Desmon, Reginal’ Deeverox, Alice Fairfax business, out with it, I sais. ’Hen you hears a piece o’ news ye jest set an’ smiles all over it to yourself like ez tho’ you was tormentin’ us. Ez ef we cared! Let anybody else hev a bit o’ news tho’ an’ you don’t give ’em no rest tell you’ve wormed it out of ’em—not tell you’ve wormed it all out of ’em.”
“Now see here,” was the spirited answer, “it ain’t jest that I should be accused this ’ay. The Home an’ Fireplace magazine was layin’ ’round the counter a whole week afore I even looked at it. I s’posed you’d all ben readin’ it. That’s why I thot ye might help me out.”
“Shucks! So all this here is nothin’ but somethin’ you’ve been readin’ in the paper,” the Teacher sneered.
“Exact. An’ ef you’d read the same piecet I guess you’d ben worrit, too.”
“Reginal’ Deeverox—Deeverox.” The Patriarch was thinking hard and talking to himself. “I don’t mind that piecet, an’ I read most o’ that paper,” he said, looking up. “What page was it on?”
“I don’t mind the number,” the Loafer answered, “but it begins on a page that hes a pictur o’ the house o’ Miss Annie Milliken in Tootlesbury, Massachusetts, an’ a long letter from her sayin’ how she hed been bed-rid fer thirty year tell a kind friend recommended Dr. Tarball’s Indian Wegetable Pacific.”