He murmured the broken sentences as he circled about the form of the martyr. Completing the circuit, laughter of a particularly boisterous and concussive variety interrupted his fragmentary speech.
"Ha ha, ha ha," echoed Mr. Leary in a palpably forced and hollow effort, to show that he, too, could enter into the spirit of the occasion with heartiness. "Does strike one as rather unusual at first sight—doesn't it?"
"Why, you big hooman radish! Why, you strollin' sunset!" thus Mr. Cassidy responded. "Are you payin' an election bet three weeks after the election's over? Or is it that you're just a plain bedaddled ijiet? Or wot is it, I wonder?"
"I explained to you that I went to a party. It was a fancy-dress party," stated Mr. Leary.
Sharp on the words Mr. Cassidy's manner changed. Here plainly was a person of moods, changeable and tempersome.
"Ain't you ashamed of yourself, and you a large, grown man, to be skihootin' round with them kind of foolish duds on, and your own country at war this minute for decency and democracy?" From this it also was evident that Mr. Cassidy read the editorials in the papers. "You should take shame to yourself that you ain't in uniform instid of baby clothes."
It was the part of discretion, so Mr. Leary inwardly decided, to ignore the fact that the interrogator himself appeared to be well within the military age.
"I'm a bit old to enlist," he stated, "and I'm past the draft age."
"Then you're too old to be wearin' such a riggin'. But, by cripes, I'll say this for you—you make a picture that'd make a horse laugh."