“I don’t know!” was the ungrateful revelation.
“You mean you have forgotten!” I insinuated.
“Never did know. He talks queer!”—I tittered and Jack wrinkled up his face into a funny little grimace. We both knew the joke was on you.
“Did he ever mention any of his friends,” I persevered.
“Nope. Once he give me your love and some things you sent,”—the little scamp knew the direction of my curiosity!
“But did he never tell you anything about me, Jackie?”
“Never did!”—I was wounded.
“What does he like best?”—for I had made up my mind to know the worst.
“His pipe,” he affirmed without hesitation.
“And when he smoked he’d lay back in his chair and stare at the rings he made like they was somebody, and once I saw him look jolly and kiss his hand to ’em.”