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"Wal, I declare!" chuckled the man, but with a queer little side glance at the serious face of the girl. "Think I'm a trouble-breeder, do ye?" "You just ask yourself that, sir," said Janice, firmly. "You know you're just delighted if you can say something to start things going, as you call it. And it isn't worthy of you " "Whether I'm 'Talkworthy', or 'Walkworthy', eh?" he broke in, laughing.
Then her hazel eyes brightened suddenly, and she added, "They ought to call you 'Talky' Dexter, instead of 'Walky', I believe." "'Talkworthy Dexter', eh?" he grinned. "I'm not sure that you do always talk worthy," she told him, shaking a serious head. "You're very apt to say things to 'stir folks all up, as my Aunt says. Oh, yes, you do! You know you do, Mr. Dexter."
Janice and Marty exchanged glances as the expressman came in and took a chair that creaked under his weight. The girl, remembering what her cousin had said about the visitor, wondered if it were possible that Walky had been drinking and now showed the effects of it. It was true, as Janice had once said the expressman should have been named "Talkworthy" rather than "Walkworthy" Dexter.
"Oh!" gasped Janice, for the town expressman was one of her oldest friends in Polktown, and a man in whom she took a deep interest. A slow grin dawned again on Marty's freckled countenance. "Ye ought to hear him when he's had a drink or two. You called him 'Talkworthy' Dexter; and he sure is some talky when he's been imbibing." "Oh, Marty, that's dreadful!" and Janice sighed. "It's just wicked!
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