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Lawk's friends disappeared precipitately through the back way, amid renewed sounds of crashing glass and breaking china, while I hovered around the unterrified Democracy of the ward, earnestly beseeching them to go into the street. My efforts were at last crowned with success.
Lawk's friends to the windows, and then a stampede to the back parlor. In vain I expostulated; idly I insisted on my utter lack of interest in the questions of the day: the political party would come in, and how was I to prevent it? The absence of embarrassment and amiable indifference to form that characterized the intrusion was something unique.
"Lawk's sakes, Kern, an' I've asked you a hundred times what would you do with a writin'-desk, now?" "Mommer, I'd set at it." "An' what time you got for settin', I'd like to know? Fairy-dreamin' again!" "An' I'd keep notes in it in the pigeonholes. Like it says in my Netiquette." "You don't get no notes."
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