Collar buttons are one of the Old
Harry's pet traps. I'll bet their responsible for 'most as many lapses
from grace as tangled fishlines. Where... Ow!... All right; I found it
with my bare foot, and edge up, of course."
A series of grunts and short-breathed exclamations followed, indicating
that the sufferer was struggling with a tight collar.
"Go on," commanded Pearson. "Tell me some more about the play."
"Hey? Oh, the play. Where was I?"
"You were saying that the heroine's father was an inventor."
"That's what HE said he was, though he never furnished any proof. His
daughter helped him with his inventions, but if she'd cut his hair
once in a while 'twould have been a better way of puttin' in the time,
'cordin' to my notion. And there was a rich squire, who made his money
by speculatin' in wickedness, and a mortgage, and--I don't know what
all. And those Cape Cod folks! and the houses they lived in! and the way
they talked! Oh, dear! oh, dear! I got my money's wuth that afternoon."
"What about the wreck? How did that happen?"
"Don't know. It happened 'cause it had to be in the play, I cal'late.
The mortgage, or an 'invention' or somethin', was on board the bark and
just naturally took a short cut for home, way I figgered it out.
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