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Rucker, M-i-s-t-e-r Rucker, come home to get ready for supper," came in a loud, jovial voice that carried across the street like the tocsin of a bass drum. The Rucker home sat in a clump of sugar maples just opposite the Briars, and was square, solid and unadorned of vine or flower.
Then with a slowly dawning smile supplanting his look of astonishment, he ejaculated, "M-i-s-t-e-r C-o-n-n-e!" The man made not the slightest change in his attitude except to smile the while he worked his cigar over to the other corner of his mouth. Then he cocked his head slightly sideways. "H'lo, Tommy," said he. Mr.
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