Now this particular tobacconist, though tremulously sensitive, like all
Southerners, on a point of honour, was as good-natured and forgiving as
might be consistent with his rank of Government official. He passed for
a respectable married man with an eligible daughter and a taste for the
quiet life; he did not want trouble. The purchase of an additional pack
of cigarettes, accompanied or unaccompanied by a frank apology, would
have more than satisfied his sense of honour.
There the matter might have rested. The second packet might have been
bought and even the apology tendered, but for the ill-considered action
of a young farmer who entered the shop at that moment to procure a
couple of postcards. This worthy lad was one of several dozen aspirants
to the hand of the tobacconist's daughter, whose dowry was reputed to
be considerable. He witnessed the insult and, desirous of standing well
in the graces of a prospective father-in-law, dealt the offending alien
so masterly a punch in the region of the solar plexus that he not only
doubled up, but forgot to straighten himself out again.
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