"Haven't you been listed?" asked Hamilton, glad that the subject should have seemed to come up in so natural a way and mentally congratulating himself on the success of his device to secure the friendship of the crowd.
"Nary a list," said 'Hatchet Ben,' "the rustlers of the Ringling Circus told us that they had been enumerated four times, once for every week they played, an' that not a blessed one of the census men would believe they had been taken before; but they cut us out entire."
"Well, I guess I had better take you right now," said Hamilton. "I've room on the census sheet for a few more names."
"You can count me out," said 'Hatchet Ben,' "I'm not lookin' for that kind of fame."
"Don't you think it's fair to the country to let it know who you are?"
"What's the census to me?" the other said defiantly. "I calc'late a country that doesn't give a fellow a livin' doesn't care much about his name."
"But you're getting a living, just the same," answered Hamilton, "and you're an American, anyhow, aren't you?"
"New York State," the tramp replied.
"And you?" asked Hamilton, turning to the orator of the party.
"I'm an Oxford man," answered the 'Windy Duke,' "classical tripos—if you know what that means."