The man looked up with open mouth. "Not exactly, kid!" There was
something in her face that made him lose interest in his book. He
kept looking at her.

"Then why don't you tell the truth? WE won't hurt you."

The man opened his mouth and closed it. Then he said, "It's a
book."

"Did you ever read it before?"

"This is the third time I've read it."

"Seems as it hasn't accomplished no good on you, as you still tell
lies."

The man rose abruptly, and laid the book on the seat. His manner
was quite as discouraging as it had been from the start.

"Honey," interposed Willock, "that ain't to say a lie, not a real
lie."

"IS it a hand-organ?" Lahoma demanded sternly.

"In a manner of speaking, honey, it is a hand-organ in the sense of
shutting you off from asking questions. You learn to distinguish
the sauces of speech as you gets older. Out in the big world,
people don't say this or that according as it is, they steeps their
words in a sauce as suits the digestion. Don't be so quick to call