far-reaching."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"Well, my names are Geoffrey, Guy, Eustace, Hughson-and--er--a few
others, but these will do to go on with, perhaps?"

"Well, I guess yes!"

"You can take your choice."

"Well, Guy won't do--no siree--ye see every mutt's a guy down our
way--so I guess we'll make it Geoff. But, say, if you ain't weak on the
think-machinery, why d' ye keep a guy like His Whiskers hanging around?"

"Because he has become a habit, Spike--and habits cling--and speaking of
habits--here it is!" Sure enough, at that moment Brimberly's knuckles
made themselves discreetly heard, and Brimberly himself appeared with
divers garments across his arm, at sight of which Spike stood
immediately dumb in staring, awe-struck wonder.

"Ah, you've got them, Brimberly?"

"Yessir! These is the best I can do, sir--"

"Say rather--the worst!"

"'Ere's a nice, big 'ole in the coat, sir," said Mr. Brimberly,
unfolding the garment in question, "and the weskit, sir; the pocket
is tore, you'll notice, sir."