"Oh, hush!" says the wife. "You boys are always snappin' at each other. A outsider would think you was in business together or something. How is everything, Alex?"
"Fine!" he says, rubbin' his hands together and castin' a hungry eye over the bacon and eggs. "I already had a breakfast fit for a king, but the early mornin' air gimme a fresh appetite. I think I could stand a little of that bacon and—"
"They's only one piece left," I says, spearin' it with my fork. "Try and get it!"
"Will you be still?" says the wife. "We have plenty in the ice box, Alex, if you want some."
"Don't be blowin' about how much food we got in the ice box," I says. "They may be some spies from Hoover's office around."
"That reminds me," says Alex, makin' the best of it by devourin' all the crackers and jam. "I expect to go to Washington this week and offer my services to Mister Hoover."
"What was you thinkin' of doing for Mister Hoover, Alex?" says the wife.
"I got a scheme for—," he begins, when I ceased firin' on the bacon and eggs and arose.
"Listen!" I butts in. "I don't like to walk out in the middle of your act, Alex, but I gotta date. I have just bought a infielder from Jersey City which they tell me is a second Ty Cobb. The last guy which come recommended to me like that acted like hittin' the ball was a felony and he must of figured that droppin' grounders put Cobb over. I have give everything but the franchise for this new bird, and I wanna see right now if he's one of them things or a ball player."
"Don't make no engagements for to-night," says the wife, "because we're goin' to the movies with them lovely Wilkinsons."