He didn't say he wasn't.
"Ain't you going to tell me your name?" I says. "Not that I s'pose you'll tell me the right one. They never do."
"My name," he says, "is John Ember."
"On the square?" I asked him.
"Yes," he says. He was a funny man. He didn't have a bit of come-back. He took you just plain. He reminded me of the way I acted with Luke. But usually I could jolly like the dickens.
"You travel, I guess," I says. "What do you travel for?"
He laughed. "If I understand you," he said, "you are asking me what my line is?"
I nodded. I'd just put the pit in my mouth, so I couldn't guess something sassy, like pickles.
"I have no line," he says. "It's an area."