"Sho! your back must be weak. Been sea-sick?"
"I have suffered some from sea-sickness," returned the person addressed, with an air of restraint.
"So have I. I tell you I thought something was goin' to cave in."
"Of what earthly interest does he suppose that is to me?" thought the clerk, superciliously.
"Fact is," continued Mr. Tarbox, "I'd a good deal rather be to home in Squashboro', livin' on baked beans, than be here livin' on all their chicken fixin's. I suppose you've heard of Squashboro' hain't you?"
"I can't say I have," said the clerk, coldly, adjusting his eye-glasses, and turning away from his uncongenial companion.
"Squashboro', State o' Maine. It's a pooty smart place--got three stores, a blacksmith's shop, a grist mill, and two meetin'-houses."
"Really, my friend," said the Englishman, "Squashboro' may be as smart a place as you say, but it doesn't interest me."
"Don't it? That's because you haven't been there. We've got some smart men in Squashboro'."
"You don't say so?" said the other, in a sarcastic tone.
"There's Squire Perkins, selectman, town clerk and auctioneer. You'd ought to hear his tongue go when he auctioneers. Then there's Parson Pratt--knows a sight of Latin, Greek and Hebrew."
"Are you one of the smart men of Squashboro'?" asked the clerk, in the same tone.
"Wal, that ain't for me to say," answered Mr. Tarbox, modestly. "You never can tell what may happen, as the hen said when she hatched a lot of geese. But I'll tell you what, Mr. Englishman--"
"My name is Robinson," interrupted the other, stiffly.
"Why, howdy do, Mr. Robinson!" exclaimed Jonathan, seizing the unwilling hand of the other and shaking it vigorously. "My name is Tarbox--Jonathan Tarbox, named after my grandfather. His name was Jonathan, too."
"Really, your family history is very interesting."
"Glad you think so. But as I was sayin', when you spoke about me bein' smart, I've got up a new plow that's goin' to take the shine off all that's goin'," and he plunged his hand into his pocket.
"You don't carry a plow round in your pocket, do you?" asked Mr. Robinson, arching his eyebrows.
"Come, now, Mr. Robinson, that's a good joke for you. I've got a plan of it here on this piece of paper. If you'll squat down somewhere, I'll explain it to you."