where _I_ happen to live; bein' what a body may call a travellin'
name. As I'm now down at the mouth of the Kalamazoo, why Whiskey
Centre's there, too."

"I understand the matter, now," answered le Bourdon, composing his
well-formed mouth in a sort of contemptuous smile. "You and whiskey,
being sworn friends, are always to be found in company. When I came
into the river, which was the last week in April, I saw nothing like
whiskey, nor anything like a Centre at the mouth."

"If you'd 'a' be'n a fortnight later, STRANger, you'd 'a' found
both. Travellin' Centres, and stationary, differs somewhat, I guess;
one is always to be found, while t'other must be s'arched a'ter."

"And pray who are Dolly and Blossom; I hope the last is not a
WHISKEY blossom?"

"Not she--she never touches a spoonful, though I tell her it never
hurt mortal! She tries hard to reason me into it that it hurts ME--
but that's all a mistake, as anybody can see that jest looks at me."

Ben DID look at him; and, to say truth, came to a somewhat different
conclusion.

"Is she so blooming that you call her 'Blossom'?" demanded the bee-
hunter, "or is she so young?"

"The gal's a little of both. Dolly is my wife, and Blossom is my
sister. The real name of Blossom is Margery Waring, but everybody
calls her Blossom; and so I gi'n into it, with the rest on 'em."