"But who are your parents?" she goes on.
"Don't own any," says I. "I'm a double orphan and rustlin' for myself."
"Where do you live?" says she.
"Why," says I, "I don't live anywhere just now. I'm movin'; but I don't know where to."
"I suppose that is either impudence or epigram," says she; "but never mind. Perhaps you will tell me where you work?"
"I don't work at all," says I. "I'm head office boy for the Corrugated Trust, and it's a cinch job."
"Indeed!" says she. "The Corrugated Trust? Let me see, who is at the head of that concern?"
"Say," says I, "you don't mean you never heard of Old Hickory Ellins or Mr. Robert, do you?"
She kind of smiles at that; but dodges makin' any answer.
"Well," says I, "do I get pinched, or just given the run? Either way, I've got some baggage down by the area door that ought to be looked after."