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That afternoon I went back to Murphy's store, pulled out a cigar case and, passing it over to the old gentleman, said, 'Take one, neighbor. These are out of my private box. It was really a good cigar and the old man, giving me a little blarney, said, 'Surre, that cigare is a birrd. 'I'm glad you like it, said I. 'I have those sent me from Chicago, a fresh box every week.
Merrihew smiled weakly and signified that he did not understand. "Nicht rauchen!" cried the official in desperation. Merrihew extended his hands hopelessly. He had nothing belonging to the conductor. Hillard had the tickets. "Niet rooken! Niet rooken!" "I say, Jack, what the deuce does he want, anyhow?" "Cigare, cigare!" The conductor gesticulated toward the window. "Oh!"
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