Go to the devil!" "That all may show obstinacy, Mr.Annixter, but----" Suddenly Annixter jumped up again and came to the edge of the porch; his face flamed scarlet to the roots of his stiff yellow hair.

He thrust out his jaw aggressively, clenching his teeth.
"You," he vociferated, "I'll tell you what you are.

You're a--a--a PIP!" To his mind it was the last insult, the most outrageous calumny.

He had no worse epithet at his command.
"-- --may show obstinacy," pursued S.Behrman, bent upon finishing the phrase, "but it don't show common sense." "I'll mend my fence, and then, again, maybe I won't mend my fence," shouted Annixter.

"I know what you mean--that wild engine last night.
Well, you've no right to run at that speed in the town limits." "How the town limits?
The sheep were this side the Long Trestle." "Well, that's in the town limits of Guadalajara." "Why, Mr.Annixter, the Long Trestle is a good two miles out of Guadalajara." Annixter squared himself, leaping to the chance of an argument.
"Two miles! It's not a mile and a quarter.