me. No, you don't come any games on Mark Dennen.'
"'But, Mark,' says Sam, I swear to you by all that's holy that I'm that kid—I'm Sam Burns. What proof do you want? Do you remember old Ed Haywood that used to keep the drug store right across from the post-office? The guy that never washed his windows? I do. And Miss Hunt- er that taught the sixth grade school when we went there—a little woman with washed-out gray eyes and a broken front tooth? And that pretty little girl, Sarah somebody—wait a minute, I'll get it or bust Sarah—Sarah—Sarah Scott, you used to be so sweet on? Did you marry her, Mark ? And old Lafe Perkins, who used to be on hand when- ever there was any repairs being made anywhere —rheumatism and a cane and a high squeaky voice that he used to exercise giving orders about things that wasn't any of his business. Why, Mark, I remember 'em all. Good lord, man,' says 'Sam, do you want any more proof?'
"But this country blockhead just looked Sam up and down, and remarks judicious: 'It's cer- tainly wonderful how you know all these things.
