"Then what made you ask? Ain't it strong enough?"

"Strong enough! You're disposed to be sarcastic. It's stronger than I
am. What do they flavor it with--tar?"

"Say, let's see that plug. THAT ain't smokin' tobacco."

"What is it, then--asphalt?"

"Why, haw! haw! That's a piece of Ezry's chewin'. Some he left when he
went away. It's 'Honest Friend.' 'TIS flavored up consider'ble. And you
tried to smoke it! Ho! ho!"

The young man joined in the laugh.

"That explains why it bubbled so," he said. "I used twenty-two matches,
by actual count, and then gave it up. Bah!" he smacked his lips
disgustedly and made a face: "'Honest Friend'--is that the name of it?
Meaning that it'll stick to you through life, I presume. Water has no
effect on the taste; I've tried it."

"Maybe some supper might help. I'll wash the dinner dishes and start
gettin' it. All there seems to be to this job of mine just now is
washin' dishes. And how I hate it!"

He reentered the kitchen. Then he uttered an exclamation:

"Why, what's become of the dishes?" he demanded. "I left 'em here on the
table."