"My friend," I said, "I'm disappointed in you."
He made no reply.
"Yes, I'm disappointed. You did such a very poor job."
"Poor job!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," I said, and I slipped my bag off my shoulder and began to
rummage inside. My companion watched me silently and
suspiciously.
"You should not have left the rubbers."
With that I handed him my old rubbers. A peculiar expression came
into the man's face.
"Say, pardner, what you drivin' at?"
"Well," I said, "I don't like to see such evidences of haste and
inefficiency."
He stood staring at me helplessly, holding my old rubbers at
arm's length.
"Come on now," I said, "that's over. We'll walk along together."
I was about to take his arm, but quick as a flash he dodged, cast
both rubbers and rain-cape away from him, and ran down the road
for all he was worth, the little dog, looking exactly like a
rolling ball of fur, pelting after him. He never once glanced
back, but ran for his life. I stood there and laughed until the
tears came, and ever since then, at the thought of the expression
on the jolly rover's face when I gave him my rubbers, I've had to
smile. I put the rain-cape and rubbers back into my bag and
turned again to the road.
Before the afternoon was nearly spent I found myself very tired,
for my two days' experience in the city had been more exhausting
for me, I think, than a whole month of hard labour on my farm.
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