When I saw you last
your pocket was full of the silver plate of that pantry, and I can thank
you for a fright myself, for when I saw you, I was just getting ready to
crack a neat little crib. Say! why didn't you flash your glim at me or
make some friendly signal at least? You popped out of sight like a
prairie rabbit when a coyote heaves in view."
Pinton felt the ground heave beneath him. What possible job could the
man mean? What was a "glim," and what did the fellow suggest by silver
plate? Then it struck him all of a sudden. Heavens! he was taken for a
burglar by a burglar. His presence in the pie pantry had been
misinterpreted by a cracksman; and he, the harmless organist of Dr.
Bulgerly's church, was claimed as the associate of a dangerous, perhaps
notorious, thief. Pinton's cup of woe overflowed.
He arose, put on his hat, and started to go. The young man grasped his
arm, and said in a most conciliatory fashion:--
"Perhaps I have hurt your sensitive nature. It was far from my intention
to do so. I saluted you at first in the coarse, conventional manner
which is expected by members of our ancient and honourable craft, and if
I have offended you, I humbly beg your pardon.
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