He took out his pipe and filled it mechanically, and was just holding a
match to the tobacco when he paused and gazed with a puzzled air at the
ceiling. "Blamed if it don't sound like somebody dancing!" he growled.
STEPPING BACKWARDS
"Wonderful improvement," said Mr. Jack Mills. "Show 'em to me again."
Mr. Simpson took his pipe from his mouth and, parting his lips, revealed
his new teeth.
"And you talk better," said Mr. Mills, taking his glass from the counter
and emptying it; "you ain't got that silly lisp you used to have. What
does your missis think of 'em?"
"She hasn't seen 'em yet," said the other. "I had 'em put in at dinner-
time. I ate my dinner with 'em."
Mr. Mills expressed his admiration. "If it wasn't for your white hair
and whiskers you'd look thirty again," he said, slowly. "How old are
you?"
"Fifty-three," said his friend. "If it wasn't for being laughed at I've
often thought of having my whiskers shaved off and my hair dyed black.
People think I'm sixty."
"Or seventy," continued Mr. Mills. "What does it matter, people
laughing? You've got a splendid head of 'air, and it would dye
beautiful.
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