“Go ahead, and welcome,” says Kinderhook. Mr. Atkins went over to the table, and then he unwrapped our churn and stood it up beside the red, white, and blue one. “What’s that?” says Kinderhook. “This,” says Mr. Atkins, “is about as good a churn as I know about, and I sort of wanted to compare it with yours before I done any investin’.” “You’re wasting our time,” says Kinderhook, sharplike. “Don’t calc’late to waste any time,” says Mr. Atkins, “so if Captain Winton and Mr. Wade will step over here we’ll sort of set these churns side by side and compare ’em.” “I don’t care to have my churn compared—” “Thought you let on jest now it was _our_ churn,” says Mr. Atkins, “and that bein’ the case, why, we’ll do some comparin’, anyhow.... Will you come over here, Captain, and Mr. Wade?” They came over, not getting next to what was happening at all, and then Wade says all of a sudden: “Why, it’s Atkins! What you been doing to yourself?” Mr. Atkins sort of grinned, and then he turned toward Kinderhook. “You say you never patented your churn, don’t you?” “Yes.” “On account of the trust?” “Yes.” “When did you invent it? When did you git this model done so it would work?” “Five months ago,” says Kinderhook. “Don’t call to mind the date, do you?” “Some day the middle of April.” “It wasn’t done two years ago?” “Certainly _not_.” “Um!... Now, gentlemen, let’s kind of compare these churns. This here one of mine is a Criterion, and she’s a good one. If Kinderhook’s is better ’n this it ’ll pay us mighty well to invest. His’s got more color to it, anyhow.” Then the three of them began looking the churns over. As soon as Mr. Wade recognized Mr. Atkins he knew something was going to happen, so he wasn’t so surprised as Captain Winton, but he was surprised some when he came to do the comparing, and Captain Winton kept getting exciteder and exciteder. At last he bust right out and says, “Why, Mr. Kinderhook, these churns are identical—identical!” “Nonsense!” says Kinderhook. “I know that churn well. They are wholly dissimilar.” “Then my eyesight is gone,” says Captain Winton, sort of short and stern. “Supposin’ we take out the dasher of Kinderhook’s churn,” says Mr. Atkins, and, while Kinderhook kicked about it and began to look pretty worried, they took it out, and then Mr. Atkins pointed to a place on the metal shaft and handed it to Captain Winton. The captain took one look and then he turned to Kinderhook. “How do you account for this,” says he, “on a churn you invented, yourself, last April?” “What?” says Kinderhook. “It says—and on your own churn-dasher, too—‘Patented June 23, 1916. The Criterion Churn Company, Albany, New York.’”