“Say, he was a live one!” broke in Harrington; “he was Rome's Big Tim!”
“Listen!” commanded Goldie Cora, shaking her yellow head at Harrington. “Go on, Slimmy.”
“About this time Brutus commences to show in th' runnin'. Brutus is th' head of th' Citizens' Union, an' him an' his fellow mugwumps put in their time bluffin' an' four-flushin' 'round about reform. They had everybody buffaloed, except Cæsar. Brutus is for closin' th' saloons, puttin' th' smother on horse racin', an' wants every Roman kid who plays baseball Sunday pinched.”
“He gives me a pain!” complained Goldie Cora.
“An' mind you, all th' time Brutus is graftin' with both hooks. He's in on the Aqueduct; he manages a forty per cent, hold out on the Appian way; an' what long green he has loose he loans to needy skates in Spain at pawn shop rates, an' when they don't kick in he uses the legions to collect. Brutus is down four ways from the jack on everything in sight. Nothin's calculated to embarrass him but a pair of mittens.”
“An' at that,” remarked Harrington, who had a practical knowledge of politics, “him an' his mugwump bunch didn't have nothin' on th' New York reformers. Do youse guys remember when the city bought th' ferries? There was———”
“I'd sooner hear Slimmy,” said Goldie Cora.
“Me too,” agreed the Wop.
Slimmy looked flattered. “Well, then,” he continued, “all this time Caesar is the big screech, an' it makes Brutus so sore he gets to be a bug. So he starts to talkin'. 'This Cæsar guy,' says Brutus, 'won't do.'
“'Right you be,' says Cassius, who's always been a kicker. 'That's what I've been tellin' you lobsters from th' jump.'