“Paisley winds his feet around a leg of the bench and kind of groans.
“‘Lem,’ says he, ‘we been friends for seven years. Would you mind not kissing Mrs. Jessup quite so loud? I’d do the same for you.’
“‘All right,’ says I. ‘The other kind will do as well.’
“‘This Chinaman,’ goes on Paisley, ‘was the one that shot a man named Mullins in the spring of ’97, and that was———’
“Paisley interrupted himself again.
“‘Lem,’ says he, ‘if you was a true friend you wouldn’t hug Mrs. Jessup quite so hard. I felt the bench shake all over just then. You know you told me you would give me an even chance as long as there was any.’
“‘Mr. Man,’ says Mrs. Jessup, turning around to Paisley, ‘if you was to drop in to the celebration of mine and Mr. Hicks’s silver wedding, twenty-five years from now, do you think you could get it into that Hubbard squash you call your head that you are nix cum rous in this business? I’ve put up with you a long time because you was Mr. Hicks’s friend; but it seems to me it’s time for you to wear the willow and trot off down the hill.’
“‘Mrs. Jessup,’ says I, without losing my grasp on the situation as fiancé, ‘Mr. Paisley is my friend, and I offered him a square deal and a equal opportunity as long as there was a chance.’
