“I wouldn’t go quite so far as that if I were you, Silas,” protested the minister affably. “It is only in the case of Oliver October that I disagree with you. We heartily agree on almost everything else, I am sure.”
“But the time has come when we got to agree about Oliver October,” declared Mr. Sikes dictatorially. “I said it would come, and here it is. I only hope we ain’t too late. It seems to be the style not to pay a damn’ bit of attention to anything I say nowadays. It’s a hell of a—”
“My dear Brother Sikes,” broke in the parson, lifting his eyebrows.
Joseph Sikes swallowed hard before speaking again. “It ain’t always my fault when I cuss and blaspheme like this,” he muttered defensively.
“The thing is,” began Mr. Link, compressing his lips and squinting earnestly; “what is the best way to go about it?”
“Go about what?” demanded the mystified Mr. Baxter.
“Have you licked him yet?” inquired Sikes darkly.
“Licked who?”
“Oliver October.”
“Not in the last three years. I promised I wouldn’t.”