Amos considered, then he sighed, and said good-naturedly: “Kite, you’re an awful pest, stirring me up when I’m comfortable.”
“You’ve got to do something.”
“We-ell, I’ll tell you. I’ll take you to see Wint. You can put it up to him. That’s the best.”
“You’ll back me up?”
Amos shook his head. “You and him can have it out. I’ll not yell for either of you.”
Kite protested: “A lot of good that will do.”
Amos shrugged his big shoulders. “Well....” Kite got up hurriedly.
“All right,” he agreed, before Amos could withdraw his offer. “All right, come on.”
Amos looked ruefully at his feet, and wiggled his toes in his comfortable slippers. “I declare, Kite, I hate to put on shoes.”
“Damn it, man, it’s your own offer,” Kite protested; and Amos admitted it, and groaned: