"There's something loose with this hatchet, sir," I said,
innocently looking down at him.

"Oh, there is? What an observing little fellow you are! Never
mind the hatchet; just tell me what number you were sent to
answer."

"Number?" I repeated, as though I couldn't see why he wanted to
know. "Why--431."

"Not much, my boy--331."

"'Scuse me, sir, ain't you mistaken?"

He looked at me for full a minute. I stared him straight in the
eye. A nasty eye he's got--black and bloodshot and cold and full
of suspicion. But it wavered a bit at the end.

"I may be," he said slowly, "but not about the number. Just
you turn around and get down to 331."

"All right, sir. Thank you very much. It might have got me in
trouble. The ladies are so particular about having the bells
answered quick--"

`I guess you'll get in trouble all right," he said and stood
watching--from where he stood he could watch me every inch of the
way--till I got to 331, at the end of the hall, Mrs. Kingdon's
door.