Somehow, that seems to graze his funnybone, and he has a struggle to keep a grin out of his mouth corners. "Humph!" says he. "I—I'd like to have seen her then. So you went on to describe the general state of my health, did you?"
"It was you we was chattin' about," says I.
"Fascinating topic, I've no doubt," he growls; "but I hardly appreciate the attention. Understand?"
"That's breakin' on me gradual," says I.
"Fortunately for you, though," he goes on, "you didn't attempt to lie out of it. By the way, why didn't you?"
"And her just after givin' you the whole game over the 'phone?" says I. "Ah, say!"
"Young man," says he, shootin' over the quizzin' gaze, "either you are too blickety blinked fresh to keep, or else you're too keen to lose; hanged if I know which! But—er—well, I'll take a chance. You may go out and report to Mr. Piddie for duty."
"It'll near break his heart," says I.
It does, too. I expect from what he'd heard in the private office that he was figurin' on handin' me my hat as I was shot out and remarkin' that he knew all along it was comin' to me. Then there'd be a rollcall of new office boys, with him pickin' out one more to his taste than me. But no such luck for him.
"Cheer up, Piddie," says I. "I'll have the warden send you an invitation when they fin'lly get me right."