"Put on the piece with two cataracts," innocently suggested Handy.
"No, he didn't put on no two cataracts either," replied Smith, somewhat indignantly.
"Well, then, be good enough to let us know how he got square."
"He went to work and announced the production of 'Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,' with forty real thieves in the cast. How was that for enterprise, eh?"
"Great! Were you in the cast?" inquired the low comedy gentleman.
"Nit! I wasn't of age then. You can't be legally a criminal under age. Don't you know there's a society for the protection of crime?"
"Excuse me. No reflection, I assure you. I did not intend to be personal. I was merely trying to find out how the old man filled out his cast."
"Well, my boy," replied Smith patronizingly, "think it over a minute, and you will realize that the morals of the old days were in no respect different from those in which we now live. Thieves, then as now, were a drug in the market, and the City Hall stood precisely where it stands to-day. Thieves in those times frequently masqueraded as grafters."
"Smith," said Handy, "you take the cake," removing the briarwood from his mouth to knock the ashes from the bowl preparatory to loading up for a fresh pull at the weed.
It was in this harmless manner the afternoon was allowed to slip by in the exchange of yarns. Many strange and comical experiences were related by the happy-go-lucky little group.