"'Yes, I know,' says I. An' I took his hand an' pulled it through my
arm, an' we walked down to Arch. Dunno what the girls thought, seein' me
in sech ragged company. Don't care. He's a brick, old Joe.
"Says he, 'Ef I hed hed your practical knowledge, at your age, Andrew,
it might hev been better for the cause of science this day,' an'
buttons up his coat.
"'Pears as if he wasn't used to wearin' shirts, an' so hed got that
trick o' buttonin' up. But he has a appreciatin' eye, he has,--more than
th' common,--much more." And Andy crossed his legs, and looked down, and
coughed in a modest, deprecating way.
"Well," finding no one spoke, "I've found that meal, sure enough, is his
breakfast, dinner, an' supper. I calls it luncheon to him, in a easy,
gentlemanly sort of way. I believe I never mentioned to you," looking at
Jane, "how I smuggled him into the pants you made, you thinkin' him a
friend of mine? As he is."
"No," said the woman.
"As with the pants, so with coat, an' shirt; likewise boots,"--checking
off each with a rub on his trousers.
Andy's tongue was oiled, and ran glibly.
Mrs. Wart, on the back seat, shuffled her feet and hemmed in vain.
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