tells me, when
along came about the easiest picking that ever got loose from the old
homestead--"

"I beg your pardon," protested Professor Bolton.

"The ready money, the loosened kale, the posies in the garden waiting to
be plucked," elucidated Mr. Max. "This guy, Sam says, was such a perfect
rube he just naturally looked past him to see if there was a trail of
wisps of hay on the floor. For a while Sam sits there with a grouch as
he thought how hard it was to put business aside and get a little rest
now and then, and debating whether, being on a vacation, as it was, he'd
exert himself enough to stretch forth his hand and take whatever money
the guy had. While he was arguing the matter with himself, the jay
settled the question by coming over and sitting down near him.

"He's in the city, he tells Sam, to enjoy the moving pictures of the
streets, and otherwise forget the trees back home that grow the cherries
in the bottom of the cocktail glasses. 'And believe me,' he says to Sam,
'there ain't none of those confidence men going to get me. I'm too
wise,' he says.

"'I'll bet money you are,' Sam tells him laughing all over at the fish
that was fighting to get into the net.

"'Yes, siree,' says the last of the Mohicans, 'they can't fool me. I can
tell them as fur away as I can see 'em, and my eyesight's perfect. One
of 'em comes up to me in City Hall park and tries to sell me some mining
stock. I guess he ain't recovered yet from what I said to him. I tell
you, they can't fool Mark Dennen,' says the guy.

"Sam told me that at them words he just leaned back in his seat and
stared at the jay and whistled under his breath. Years ago, it seemed,
Sam had lived in the town of Readsboro, Vermont, and run up and down the
streets with one suspender and a stone bruise, and the kid that had run
with him was Mark Dennen. And Sam says he looked at this guy from the
woods that was running round crying to high heaven he needed a guardian,
and he sees that sure enough it was the tow-head Mark Dennen and--Sam
told me--something seemed to bust inside him, and he wanted to stretch
out his arms and hug this guy.

"'Mark Dennen,' shouts Sam, 'as I live. Of Readsboro, Vermont. The kid I
used to play with under the arc lights--don't you remember me?'

"But Sam says the guy just looked him straight in the eye and shut his
jaw, and says: 'I suppose you'll be asking after my brother George
next?'

"'You ain't got any brother George, yo