I may add that there was no consciousness of
this in his face, which was good-natured, and, but for a certain
squareness in the angle of his lower jaw, utterly uninteresting and
commonplace.
"You disremember me," he said, briefly, as he extended his hand,
"but I'm from Solano, in Californy. I met you there in the spring
of '57. I was tendin' sheep, and you was burnin' charcoal."
There was not the slightest trace of any intentional rudeness in
the reminder. It was simply a statement of fact, and as such to be
accepted.
"What I hailed ye for was only this," he said, after I had shaken
hands with him. "I saw you a minnit ago standin' over in yon box--
chirpin' with a lady--a young lady, peart and pretty. Might you be
telling me her name?"
I gave him the name of a certain noted belle of a neighboring city,
who had lately stirred the hearts of the metropolis, and who was
especially admired by the brilliant and fascinating young
Dashboard, who stood beside me.
The Man from Solano mused for a moment, and then said, "Thet's so!
thet's the name! It's the same gal!"
"You have met her, then?" I asked, in surprise.
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