"I don't want any of your Uncle Billying. I always know what to expect when you begin that."
"I began it the other night and ended by giving you a meerschaum pipe, didn't I?"
"Oh, meerschaum. Chalk—if there ever was a piece used by a tailor to mark out the angles of a raw-boned man—that pipe's chalk. You could no more color it than you could a door-knob."
"A friend of mine brought it from Germany, Uncle Billy."
"Did he? He brought it from a German beer garden, where they peddle them in baskets and sell them by the paper bag full, like popcorn. I had my suspicions at the time."
"But you were willing to run the risk of acceptance because your pipe was so strong."
The old fellow put down his knife and fork and, straightening up, looked at Howard as if he would bore him through. "I deny your slander, sir."
"So do I," said Howard.
"You do what?"
"Deny the slander—unless there is slander in truth."