"I ain't hankerin' after any more," he mumbled, feeling his face tenderly.
"It said that my name was Patches," suggested the stranger.
"Sure, Mr.Patches, I reckon nobody'll question that." "Honorable Patches," again prompted the stranger.
"Yes, sir.

You bet; Honorable Patches," agreed Curly with emphasis.
Then, as he painfully regained his feet, he held out his hand with as nearly a smile as his battered features would permit.

"Do you mind shaking on it, Mr.Honorable Patches?
Just to show that there's no hard feelin's ?" Patches responded instantly with a manner that won Curly's heart.
"Good!" he said.

"I knew you would do that when you understood, or I wouldn't have bothered to show you my credentials." "My mistake," returned Curly.

"It's them there credentials of yourn, not your name, that's hell." He gingerly mounted his horse again, and Patches turned back to the Dean as though apologizing for the interruption.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but--about work ?" The Dean never told anyone just what his thoughts were at that particular moment; probably because they were so many and so contradictory and confusing.