“‘Pet,’ he sais, ‘I allus told you Bill Hooker couldn’t blow the bass-horn.’
“‘I otter ’a’ knowd you could blow a heap sight better,’ she sais quiet like, but meanin’ business.
“‘That I can,’ sais he. ‘An’ after we’re merried—not tell after, mind ye—I’ll blow sech music fer ye ez ye never dreamed of.’”
“My sights, but he was innercent!” the Loafer cried.
“What do you know ’bout it?” snapped the Tinsmith.
“Why, him thinkin’ she’d give him a chancet to blow.”