"Don't you know?" I says.
"I don't know but I do," says he. "For example, I've been sitting here one-half hour waiting for my sister. Do I feel the way you mean?"
"Nothing like," I says, and turned to jump down again.
"Don't let me drive you away," he says; "I don't mean to bother you. I beg your pardon like anything."
"It's all right," I said; "I was going. I didn't want to sit up here. I don't know what I got up here for, anyway."
I picked up my books, and he spoke again.
"If you're really going," he said, "I wonder if I could send a message by you?"
"Sure thing," I says.
"Do you know Antoinette Massy?" he asked.