"Hanged if I know yet," says Pinckney.
"Maybe it's you that's goin'?" says I.
"Oh, no," says he. "That is, I hadn't planned to, you know. And come to think of it, I believe I am to meet—er—Jack and Jill."
"Names sound kind of familiar," says I. "What's the breed?"
"What would be your guess?" says he.
"A pair of spotted ponies," says I.
"By Jove!" says he, "I hadn't thought of ponies."
"Say," says I, sizin' him up to see if he was handin' me a josh, "you don't mean to give out that you're lookin' for a brace of something to come in on the steamer, and don't know whether they'll be tame or wild, long haired or short, crated or live stock?"
"Live stock!" says he, beamin'. "That's exactly the word I have been trying to think of. That's what I shall ask for. Thanks, awfully, Shorty, for the hint."
"You're welcome," says I. "It looks like you need all the help along that line you can get. Do you remember if this pair was somethin' you sent for, or is it a birthday surprise?"