"Know Mrs. Denyse, Mr. Gazink?" he asked.
"I've met her."
"How? When you were peddlin' neckties and suspenders?"
"No," said the Tyro quietly.
"Doin' much business abroad?" pursued the other.
"No; I'm not here on business. It's a pleasure trip," explained the victim pleasantly.
"Gents' furnishin's must be lookin' up. Go every year?" Mr. Sperry was looking for an opening.
"This is my first trip."
"Your first!" cried the other. "Why, I bin across fifteen times." He conceived the sought-for opening to be before him. "So you're out cuttin' a dash. A sort of haberdash, hey? Haw—haw—haw!" He burst into a paroxysm of self-applausive mirth over his joke, in which a couple of satellites near at hand joined. "Haw—haw—haw!" he roared, stimulated by their support.
The Tyro slowly turned a direct gaze upon his tormentor. "The Western variety of your species," he observed pensively, "pronounce that 'hee-haw' rather than 'haw-haw.'"