"Sour grapes ain't jealousy," I says. "Sour grapes is brandy. Go on with your story, Alex."
"Don't mind him," whispers the wife in his ear. "He'd laugh in church!"
"Why not?" I says. "I ain't done no gigglin' since you and me first went there together."
"Will you let go?" she says. "Go on, Alex."
"Well," he says, "they called me into the president's office to-day, and the former begins by tellin' me I'm the best salesman they ever had."
"He don't care what he says, does he?" I butts in. "I suppose you admitted the charge, eh?"
"After that," goes on Alex, snubbin' me, "he tells me they have decided to get into the pleasure car game, instead of just makin' trucks and the like. Their first offerin' is gonna be one of them chummy, clover-leaf roadsters which will hold five people comfortably."
"If they're well acquainted!" I says.
"Will you leave the boy alone?" asks the wife. "I never saw anybody like you in my life!"
"Don't I know it?" I says. "Otherwise, how would we ever of got married?"