"There's the village," said Butsey, extending his hand to the left. "First bungalow is Mister Laloo's, buggies and hot dogs. There's Bill Appleby's—say, he's a character, rolling in money—we'll drop in to see him. Firmin's store's next and the Jigger Shop's at the end."
"The Jigger Shop!" said Stover, mystified. "What's that?"
"Where they make Jiggers, of course."
"Jiggers?"
"Oh, my beautiful stars, think of eating your first Jigger!" said Butsey White, the man of the world. "What wouldn't I give to be in your shoes! I say, though, you've got some tin?"
"Sure," said Stover, sounding the coins in his change pocket.
Butsey's face brightened.
"You see, Al has no confidence in me just at present. It's a case of the regular table d'hôte for me until the first of the month. Say, we'll have a regular gorge. It'll be fresh strawberry Jiggers, too."
They began to pass other fellows in flannels and jerseys, who exchanged greetings.
"Hello, you, Butsey!"