At this, Henry Rooter loudly shouted with applausive hilarity; whereupon Herbert, rather surprised at his own effectiveness, naturally repeated his waggery.
"Say not so, Florence! Say not so! Say not so!"
"I'll tell you one thing!" his lady cousin cried, thoroughly infuriated. "I wish to make just one last simple remark that I would care to soil myself with in your respects, Mister Herbert Illingsworth Atwater and Mister Henry Rooter!"
"Oh, say not so, Florence!" they both entreated. "Say not so! Say not so!"
"I'll just simply state the simple truth," Florence announced. "In the first place, you're goin' to live to see the day when you'll come and beg me on your bented knees to have me put poems or anything I want to in your ole newspaper, but I'll just laugh at you! 'Indeed?' I'll say! 'So you come beggin' around me, do you? Ha, ha!' I'll say! 'I guess it's a little too late for that! Why, I wouldn't——'"
"Oh, say not so, Florence! Say not so!"
"'Me to allow you to have one of my poems?' I'll say, 'Much less than that!' I'll say, 'because even if I was wearing the oldest shoes I got in the world I wouldn't take the trouble to——'"
Her conclusion was drowned out. "Oh, Florence, say not so! Say not so, Florence! Say not so!"