“Aw, pop! Lemme stay here, won't you, please?”
“No, I won't. I can't have you around here, Lem. The place where a man is tryin' to be a saint ain't no place for a hearty, growin' boy. I got to practically do without food. I got to fast, an' live on bread an' water—”
“Aw, lemme come. I don't want much to eat. Just maybe some ham an' eggs—”
“Now, hush up! You shut your noise! Don't you come talkin' about—about nothin' to eat. You come around here talkin' about ham an'—about things to eat, an' botherin' me, an' I won't have it. How can I get my mind quieted down to bread an' water when you're comin' here all the time? It's just food, food, food, an' tempt, tempt, tempt, all the time. I'm havin' a hard enough time as it is, dod—I mean—”
“Why don't you quit it, then? I don't see what you want to be a plaguey old saint for, anyway. I don't see where you 're goin' to make any money at it.”
“There now! Money! That just shows you oughtn't to be around here, Lem. You don't understand the first principles of a saint. A saint ain't in the saint business for the money it gets him.”
“What is he one for, then, I'd like to know? What's it good for, anyway?”
“Why, dod-baste—no, I take that back, Lem. I mean anybody ought to know what a saint is for. He's—well, he's just a saint. There don't have to be no reason for a saint. He just stays around where he is, an' is. Folks come an' look at him an' wonder how he does it. He's a credit to the town, dod—I mean, he's a credit to the town. He gets wrote up in the papers. They make monuments of him when he's dead, an' put his picture in a book.”
“Well, I don't think it's sense, I'd rather not be dead an' have monuments, if I had to go an' have nothin' but bread an' water. I'd rather be alive an' have ham an' eggs—”
“Now, you stop that! You're talkin' about ham an' eggs just to pester me, an' I won't have it! You get away from here!”