Baggs had a great reputation as orator at town meetings, and he was declared by admirers “always to be equal to the occasion,” and it was mortifying now to be found so unequal to this emergency. There was no help for it, though. He could only gasp, “the—the—the—”
“Oh well,” remarked Walter, “I can go as well now, as any time. When you catch me selling liquor, you will be likely to find at the same time the Atlantic full of your mill–logs. Good–day, sir.”
This reference to Baggs’ logs, which were not numerous enough that day to fill anything, so affected the orator, that he did succeed in making a new forensic effort.
“Go, boy!” he thundered.
The next moment, Walter was rushing out of the door, as indignant on the side of the clerk, as Baggs was on the side of the employer.
“Such impudence!” exclaimed Baggs, his wrath slowly subsiding. “If you don’t feel just right, I’ll ’tend to you,” he said to the customer. “I’ll trouble you to get down that bottle.”
The young man did not stir. He seemed to be in a stupor.
“What’s the matter?” asked Baggs. “Feel wuss?” and a sarcastic humor lighted up his twisted eye.
“I’m going,” said the young man.
“And not take a drink?”