"I say, is that you, Dink?" said the Coffee-colored Angel.
"It is," said Stover, with as much dignity as the state of his wardrobe would permit.
"I say, we've come over from the Woodhull, you know," continued the Coffee-colored Angel, who stopped after this bit of illuminating news.
"Well, what do you want?"
"I say, that's not just it; we're sent by the Woodhull I meant to say, and we want to say, we want you to know—how white we think it was of you!"
"Old man," said Cheyenne Baxter, "we want to thank you. What we want to tell you is how white we think it was of you."
"You needn't thank me," said Stover gruffly, pulling his leg through the football trousers. "I didn't want to do it."
The delegation stood confused, wondering how to end the painful scene.
"It was awful white!" said the Coffee-colored Angel, tying knots in his sweater.
"It certainly was," said Cheyenne.