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The Spouter-Inn

           ratherSundaymorning,inpeddlinghisheadaroundthistown?"

           "That’spreciselyit,"saidthelandlord,"andItoldhimhecouldn’tsellithere,themarket’soverstocked."

           "Withwhat?"shoutedI.

           "Withheadstobesure;ain’ttheretoomanyheadsintheworld?"

           "Itellyouwhatitis,landlord,"saidIquitecalmly,"you’dbetterstopspinningthatyarntomeI’mnotgreen."

           "Maybenot,"takingoutastickandwhittlingatoothpick,"butIraytherguessyou’llbedonebrownifthatereharpooneerhearsyouaslanderin’hishead."

           "I’llbreakitforhim,"saidI,nowflyingintoapassionagainatthisunaccountablefarragoofthelandlord’s.

           "It’sbrokea’ready,"saidhe.

           "Broke,"saidI"broke,doyoumean?"

           "Sartain,andthat’stheveryreasonhecan’tsellit,Iguess."

           "Landlord,"saidI,goinguptohimascoolasMt.Heclainasnowstorm"landlord,stopwhittling.YouandImustunderstandoneanother,andthattoowithoutdelay.Icometoyourhouseandwantabed;youtellmeyoucanonlygivemehalfaone;thattheotherhalfbelongstoacertainharpooneer.Andaboutthisharpooneer,whomIhavenotyetseen,youpersistintellingmethemostmystifyingandexasperatingstoriestendingtobegetinmeanuncomfortablefeelingtowardsthemanwhomyoudesignformybedfellowasortofconnexion,landlord,whichisanintimateandconfidentialoneinthehighestdegree.Inowdemandofyoutospeakoutandtellmewhoandwhatthisharpooneeris,andwhetherIshallbeinallrespectssafetospend

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