“Hello, sprouts,” he said; “what’s troubling you now?” And he gave me a kind of a push, you know, just as if he was jollying me.
I said, “Will you please give me the flashlight you took?”
“Light? What light?” he said, very innocent like.
“The one you took from in front of my house,” I said. “You’ll either give it to me or I’ll have you arrested. If you think I’m afraid of you, you’re mistaken. And you can keep your hands off me, too. You better button your coat or you’ll be stealing your own watch next.”
He just began laughing.
“That’s all right,” I said; “I mean what I say.”
He took the flashlight out of the car and said, “You don’t mean this, do you?”
“Yes, I mean that,” I said; “it’s got this fellow’s initials on, so you needn’t try to make us think it’s yours.”
He just gave me a poke with it and kept on laughing. Gee, I was mad.
“Your hands remind me of tanglefoot flypaper,” I said.