“Go ’way,” somebody says inside.
“Is that Mr. Wade?” says I.
“Yes. Go ’way. I’m busy.”
“It’s Wee-wee Moore and Catty Atkins,” says I. “Can’t we come in a minute?”
“I’m busy,” says he.
“I know what he’s doin’,” says I to Catty. “He’ll let us in. Jest watch.”
“I wanted to ask you somethin’ about Napoleon,” says I.
In a minute he come to the door and poked his head out. It was the baldest head in the state, and his eyebrows was bald, and he didn’t have a mustache or whiskers. The only hairs he had was a few eyelashes, and they were kind of yellow so you couldn’t see them very good. Besides that he was about seven feet tall and built like a jointed fish-pole. He sagged some around the shoulders and stooped in the middle, but he could straighten up, and when he did it made you think of one of these extension ladders that city fire companies have.
“What about Napoleon?” says he.
“What made him always ride a white horse?” says I.