I finds him pacin' deliberate up and down the waitin' room at
eight-fifty-three A.M., which is two minutes ahead of my schedule for
openin' the Corrugated for gen'ral business. His overcoat and a
crumpled mornin' paper are on the bench; so I figures he's been there
quite some time. Course, it might have been a stray Rube of most any
name; but I thinks I'll take a chance.

"Mornin', Ira," says I.

"Howdy," says he, as natural as if this was a reg'lar habit of ours.
Which puts it up to me to find out if I'm right, after all.

"Mr. Higgins, ain't it?" says I.

He nods.

"When did you get in?" says I.

"About six," says he.

"Come down by train or boat?" says I.

"Train," says he.

"You've had breakfast, I suppose?" I goes on.

Another nod. Oh, yes, for an economical converser, he was about the
most consistent breath saver I ever tackled. You could easy go hoarse
havin' a little chat with him. You'd need lots of time too; for after