Don't mention it to Mr. Curtis. I wouldn't,
for anything in the world, have him think that I was trying to take
you away from him. That is regarded as one of the lowest tricks a man
can be guilty of."
"We call it ornery up here," said Peter. "I'll be much obliged, sir.
Course I won't say a word. Will I find you at the Tavern if I get my
walkin' papers soon?"
"Yes. Stop in to see me to-morrow if you happen to be passing."
There was additional food for reflection in the fact that Peter was
allowed to conduct him to the Tavern alone. It was evident that not
only was the garrulous native ignorant of the real conditions at Green
Fancy, but that the opportunity was deliberately afforded him to
proclaim his private grievances to the world. After all, mused Barnes,
it wasn't a bad bit of diplomacy at that!
Barnes said good night to the man and entered the Tavern a few minutes
later. Putnam Jones was behind the desk and facing him was the little
book-agent.
"Hello, stranger," greeted the landlord. "Been sashaying in society,
hey? Meet my friend Mr. Sprouse, Mr. Barnes. Sic-em, Sprouse! Give him
the Dickens!" Mr. Jones laughed loudly at his own jest.
Sprouse shook hands with his victim.
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