Mr. Wiggins sort of caved in. “You haven’t told anybody?”
“Course not. Sich p’litical information hain’t much good when you give it away.”
“My dad’s for Whittaker, anyhow,” says I.
“So’s mine,” says Mark, “but politics is politics. How about your influence, Mr. Wiggins?”
“You get it,” says Wiggins, sharp-like. “Go tell Brown to go up to the court-room.”
We did that, and Brown was pretty surprised, but he went. We followed along, and there was Wiggins waiting for us. He told Brown what Mark had said to him, and Brown began to laugh as hard as he could, and then got serious.
“You win, kids,” says he, “providin’ you can keep quiet.”
“We git the p-printin’?”
“You do,” says Brown, “but how Wiggins and I will explain it to certain newspaper men, particularly the Eagle Center Clarion, I don’t know.”
“Was the Eagle Center Clarion goin’ to git it?” says I.