The laugh was echoed
by the others. Mrs. Tucker saw the pit into which she had deliberately
walked, but did not flinch.
"Is there any one to serve here?" she asked, turning her clear eyes
full upon the bystanders.
"You'd better ask the sheriff. He was the last one to _sarve_ here. He
sarved an attachment," replied the inevitable humorist of all
Californian assemblages.
"Is he here?" asked Mrs. Tucker, disregarding the renewed laughter
which followed this subtle witticism.
The loungers at the door made way for one of their party, who was half
dragged, half pushed into the shop. "Here he is," said half a dozen
eager voices, in the fond belief that his presence might impart
additional humor to the situation. He cast a deprecating glance at Mrs.
Tucker and said, "It's so, madam! This yer place _is_ attached; but if
there's anything you're wanting, why I reckon, boys,"--he turned half
appealingly to the crowd, "we could oblige a lady." There was a vague
sound of angry opposition and remonstrance from the back door of the
shop, but the majority, partly overcome by Mrs.
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