As has been recorded, it is peculiarly difficult to lie to people who are not to be deceived.
“Why, certainly I am,” answered the Honorable Heth, swallowing hard, “certainly I am, Jethro. I meant to have got to Coniston this summer, but I was so busy—”
“Peoples' business, I understand. Er—hear you've gone in for high-minded politics, Heth—r-read a highminded speech of yours—two high-minded speeches. Always thought you was a high-minded man, Heth.”
“How did you like those speeches, Jethro?” asked Mr. Sutton, striving as best he might to make some show of dignity.
“Th-thought they was high-minded,” said Jethro.
Then there was a silence, for Mr. Sutton could think of nothing more to say. And he yearned to depart with a great yearning, but something held him there.
“Heth,” said Jethro after a while, “you was always very friendly and obliging. You've done a great many favors for me in your life.”
“I've always tried to be neighborly, Jethro,” said Mr. Sutton, but his voice sounded a little husky even to himself.
“And I may have done one or two little things for you, Heth,” Jethro continued, “but I can't remember exactly. Er—can you remember, Heth.”
Mr. Sutton was trying with becoming nonchalance to light the stump of his cigar. He did not succeed this time. He pulled himself together with a supreme effort.