"My name" says the man, polite, "is Friedenhausman--Maximus G.
Friedenhausman."

"'Tis the right length," says Tobin. "Do you spell it with an 'o'
anywhere down the stretch of it?"

"I do not," says the man.

"_Can_ ye spell it with an 'o'?" inquires Tobin, turning anxious.

"If your conscience," says the man with the nose, "is indisposed toward
foreign idioms ye might, to please yourself, smuggle the letter into the
penultimate syllable."

"'Tis well," says Tobin. "Ye're in the presence of Jawn Malone and
Daniel Tobin."

"Tis highly appreciated," says the man, with a bow. "And now since I
cannot conceive that ye would hold a spelling bee upon the street
corner, will ye name some reasonable excuse for being at large?"

"By the two signs," answers Tobin, trying to explain, "which ye display
according to the reading of the Egyptian palmist from the sole of me
hand, ye've been nominated to offset with good luck the lines of trouble
leading to the nigger man and the blonde lady with her feet crossed in
the boat, besides the financial loss of a dollar sixty-five, all so far
fulfilled according to Hoyle."

The man stopped smoking and looked at me.