"And the Tennessee Shad, I'll bet my pants on it," said Butsey.
"Yes, sir."
"What else did they unload on you?"
"Why—why, I bought a souvenir set."
"A what?"
"A souvenir toilet set."
Butsey wheeled to the washstand, uttered a shriek and fell in convulsions on the bed.
Stover stood stockstill, gazing in horror from the variegated crockery to Butsey, who was thrashing to and fro in hysterical flops, holding both the pillows where they would most ease the agony. Then, with a sudden deft movement, Dink dropped the historic shoes, sent them under the bed with a savage kick and, rushing to the window, threw the safety can into the tall grass of the fields beyond. Then he returned solemnly, sat down on the edge of the bed, took his head in his hands and began to do some rapid thinking. Butsey White, prone on the bed, burying his head in the covers, by painful degrees returned, gasping, to self-control.
"Mr. White," said Dink solemnly.
There was a slight commotion opposite and a hand fluttered beseechingly, while Butsey's weak voice managed to say: