“You’ve been scorchin’, ain’t ye?”
“Scorching?” howled Tom, indignantly. “Why, I never even scorched a biscuit.”
“That’s a good one. I saw ye.”
“No, sir! It was only a reasonable rate of speed.”
“How many good telegraph poles did ye knock down along the route?” asked Tom’s questioner, sarcastically.
“I put every one right back in its place.”
“You look like one o’ them pampered fellers. Most likely yer dad’s a millionaire.”
“Nothing of the sort!” broke in Tom, impatiently.
“What ain’t?”
“What you said.”