Now that is a pretty dangerous business, because there is
no telling who may be an operator. Dick growled at him savagely under
his breath and told him to shut up. Nay! Nay! Mr. Hanigan wouldn't shut
up worth a cent. Finally he made some scurrilous remark, and then
another knife and fork came into play. Mr. Bridegroom was doing the
talking now, and this is what he said to Hanigan:
"I happen to be an operator myself, and have heard and understood every
word you said. As long as you confined yourself to innocent remarks
about country brides and grooms, I haven't minded it a bit. In fact, I
have rather enjoyed it. But now you've gone too far, and in about five
seconds I'm going to have the pleasure of smashing your face."
Then, before we had time to do a thing, biff; and Hanigan got it
squarely on the jaw. We hustled him out of there as soon as we could,
but Mr. Bridegroom had all his Irish up and followed him out. Eventually
we succeeded in calming him down; "Stub" made a most abject apology, and
I don't believe he ever used his knife and fork for any such a purpose
again.
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