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"Cut out the pantomime and disgorge the information, for the love of heaven," Parker pleaded. "He peench" Pablo's voice rose to a pseudo-feminine screech "the cheek of" he whirled upon Mrs. Parker and transfixed her with a tobacco-stained index finger "Señorita Parker, so help me, by Jimmy, eef I tell you some lies I hope I die pretty queeck." Both the Parkers stared at the old man blankly.
He continued: "He peench queeck like that. He don' know hee's goin' for peench hees all time queeck like that he don' theenk. But after those boy hee's peench the cheen of those girl, hee's got red in the face like black-bird's weeng. 'Oh, he say, 'I am sky-blue eedete-ot, an' he run away queeck before he forget heemself an' peench those girl some more." John Parker turned gravely to his wife.
"No?" cried John Parker, feigning profound amazement. "Es verdad. Eet ees true, señor. Those boy hee's happy, no? Eh?" "Apparently." "You bet you my life. Well, las' night those boy hee's peench weeth his thumb an' theese fingair what you suppose?" "I give it up, Pablo." Pablo wiped away with a saddle-colored paw a benignant and paternal smile. He wagged his head and scuffed his heel in the dirt.
"Eh bien! How you do, Mistare Sonee? Is eet dat you weel have a peench of snuff?" For the Frenchman had quite forgotten Dave's mishap in snuff-taking, and offered the snuff out of habitual complaisance. "No, musheer," said Dave, "I can't use no snuff of late yeers. 'Fection of the nose; makes me sneeze dreffle." "Oh! Eh blen! C'est comme il faut. I mean dat is all right, vare good, mistare.
"A cawntrack?" said Dave, starting at the sound of his favorite word. "Very well, musheer, I sign a cawntrack and live up to it." "Vare good. Weel you have one leetle peench of snuff?" said the old man, politely opening his box. "Yes, I'm obleeged, musheer," said Dave. "Don't keer ef I do."
He feasted his soul on the sensation that was his. "Those boy hee's peench " a dramatic pause. Then: "Eef you tell to Don Miguel those things I tol' you Santa Marias Hees cut my throat." "We will respect your confidence, Pablo," Mrs. Parker hastened to assure the traitor. "All right. Then I tol' to you what those boy peench weeth hees thumb an' thees fingair. Mira. Like thees."
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