"You do? Howard, you have always been a good friend to me; our relations have been most cordial and confidential, and I don't mind telling you—to go no further, mind you—that my old pipe is as strong as—as a red fox. Yes, sir, it's a positive fact. Er—where is your pipe?"
"In my room. You may go and get it as soon as you like."
"All right, and I'm a thousand times obliged to you. Florence, did that preacher go away so suddenly last night because I settled the fact that it was on the tenth?"
"Oh, no, he left because he had an engagement."
"Well," drawled the old man, "I don't know about that. Why, confound him, I've got a right to settle it as my memory dictates. Does he think that I'm going to warp my recollection just for him?"
"What was it all about, Uncle Billy?" Howard asked.
"About a story I was going to tell."
"Did you tell it?"
"Did I tell it! Well, after a fashion; after they had badgered me. Then I made a mess of it. How do you expect me to tell a story when—look here, ain't you trying to put it on me? Hah, ain't you?"
"I don't know what you mean, Uncle William."