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"See here!" says I. "Why not sail right in there, look Father between the eyes, and hand that line of dope out to him as straight as you gave it to me?" He gawps at me a second, like I'd advised him to jump off the roof. "Do do you think I ought?" says he. I has to choke back a chuckle. Wanted my advice, did he? Well, say, I could give him a truckload of that!
It comes out so unexpected that for a second or so I just gawps at her, and then I asks: "Referrin' to my hair?" "Forgive me, young man," says she. "But it is such a cheerful shade." "Yes'm," says I. "So I've been told. Some call it fire-hydrant red, but I claim it's only super-pink." "Anyway, I like it very much," says she. "I hope they don't call you Reddy, though?"
With beeg place like you got you need good watch dog. Hey? What you say?" "What's the breed, Joe?" I asks. Joe gawps at me disgusted. I expect such ignorance was painful. "Wot kind?" says he. "Wot you t'ink? Airedale." "Oh, yes! Of course, Airedales," says I, like it was something I'd forgotten. And then I scratches my head. Hadn't I heard Vee sayin' how she liked some particular kind of a dog?
I suppose I became dazzled by it all, the attention, the new scenes, the many men I met. I've no doubt I behaved very silly. But now well, I have realized all my social ambitions. Now I am devoting my life to the memory of my sainted husband, to charity, to our dear church." I gawps curious over at J. Bayard to see what comeback he has to this dose of mush, and finds him starin' foolish at her.
"Never heard of such an organization," says he. "What is it, anyway?" "Dummy concern mostly," says I, "faked up to stall off the I. C. C." "Eh?" he gawps. "Interstate Commerce Commission," says I. "We beat 'em to it, you know, by dissolvin' on paper. Had to have somebody to use the rubber stamp; so they picked me off the gate." "Humph!" he grunts. "So you're no longer an office boy, eh?
And the stunned way J. Bayard gawps at the piece of paper brings out a snicker from me. He flushes up at that and glares down at Judson. "Tactics worthy of a Tombs lawyer!" says he. "I congratulate you on your high-class legal methods!" "Oh, not at all," says Judson. "A suggestion of Mr. Gordon's. Another evidence of his insight into character, as well as his foresight into events.
Well, we gasps and gawps at Alvin like so many orphan asylum kids when Santa Claus bounces in at the Christmas exercises. Manning gets his breath back first. "Gentlemen," says he, "isn't this offer worth considering? Let's see, did I get your name right, Mr. er " "Alvin Pratt Barton," says our Santa Claus. "Pratt Barton?" repeats Manning. "Any connection with the brokerage firm of that name?"
"Tut, tut, now!" says I. "You're the one that's occupyin' the witness stand, you know. You were about to tell why you came." "Was I?" says she. "You might guess that: you've had a man pryin' and snoopin' around my flat for two days." I gawps at her for a second, and then chuckles. "You mean a classy-dressed gent with whiskers?" says I. She nods. "Mr.
We hope, however, that in the future his latent talents may be brought out. That being the case, he is possibly the grandfather of the man who in 1965 will write for us an American opera better than anything ever produced by Verdi. Why not?" We gawps at the grandfather of the musical genius of 1965 and grins.
I felt wabbly and dizzy for a second, and I expect I gawps at him open faced. Then I takes a brace. Had to. I don't know how well I did it either, or how convincin' it sounded, but I found myself shakin' him by the mitt and sayin': "Congratulations, Westlake. You you've got a girl worth gettin', believe me!" "Thanks awfully, old man," says he, still pumpin' my arm up and down.
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