"New boys always say 'sir,' and take off their hats politely."
The White Mountain Canary looked at Tough McCarty, who solemnly interrogated the Coffee-colored Angel, who shook his head in utter disbelief and said:
"I don't believe it. It's a blind. I wouldn't let him in the house."
"Please, sir," said Stover hastily, doffing his derby, "I am."
"Prove it," said a voice behind him.
"Say, I'm not as green as all that."
Stover smiled a sickly smile, shifted from foot to foot and glanced hopefully at his fellow-imps to surprise a look of amusement. But as every face remained blank, serious and extremely critical, the smile disappeared in a twinkling and his glance went abruptly to his toes.
"He certainly should prove it," said the Coffee-colored Angel anxiously. "Can you prove it?"
Stover gingerly placed the gaping valise on the top step and fumbled in his pockets.
"Please, sir, I have a letter from—from the Doctor," he blurted out, finally extracting a crumpled envelope and tendering it to the Coffee-colored Angel, who looked it over with well-simulated surprise and solemnly announced: