Williams.
A double rasp with the ring was the Reverend Mr. Smith's only reply.
"Gimme dat jule back!" demanded Mr. Williams.
The Reverend Mr. Smith was now vigorously rubbing the setting of the
stone on the floor.
"Leggo dat sparkler," said Mr. Williams again.
The Reverend Mr. Smith carefully polished off the scratches by rubbing
the ring a while on the sole of his foot. Then he resumed his seat and
put the precious thing back into the pot. Then he looked calmly at Mr.
Williams, and leaned back in his chair as if waiting for something.
"Is yo' satisfied?" said Mr. Williams, in the tone used by men who have
sustained a deep injury.
"Dis is pokah," said the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith.
"I rised yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, pointing to the ring.
"Did yer ever saw three balls hangin' over my do'?" asked the Reverend
Mr. Smith. "Doesn't yo' know my name hain't Oppenheimer?"
"Whad yo' mean?" asked Mr. Williams excitedly.
"Pokah am pokah, and dar's no 'casion fer triflin' wif blue glass 'n
junk in dis yar club," said the Reverend Mr.
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