"If ever you pass my way," I said to him, "just drop in and I'll
give you a dinner of baked beans"--and I smacked--"and home made
bread" and I smacked again--"and pumpkin pie"--and I smacked a
third time--"that will make your mouth water."
All this smacking and the description of baked beans and pumpkin
pie had an odd counter effect upon ME; for I suddenly recalled my
own tragic state. So I jumped up quickly and asked directions for
getting down to the mill neighbourhood, where I hoped to find
Bill Hahn. My friend Healy instantly volunteered the information.
"And now," I said, "I want to ask a small favour of you. I'm
looking for a friend, and I'd like to leave my bag here for the
night."
"Sure, sure," said the Irishman heartily. "Put it there in the
office--on top o' the desk. It'll be all right."
So I put it in the office and was about to say good-bye, when my
friend said to me:
"Come in, partner, and have a drink before you go"--and he
pointed to a nearby saloon.
"Thank you," I answered heartily, for I knew it was as fine a bit
of hospitality as he could offer me, "thank you, but I must find
my friend before it gets too late."
"Aw, come on now," he cried, taking my arm. "Sure you'll be
better off for a bit o' warmth inside.
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