Marty leaned over.
"Joe, I think you're a blamed idiot!"
Joe laughed.
"Well, Marty, if it weren't for the blamed idiots—like Columbus and Tom Watts and the prophets and Abe Lincoln—this world would be in a pretty mess."
But Marty refused to be convinced, even averring that the world is in a pretty mess, and that probably the aforementioned "idiots" had caused it to be so. Then finally he spoke caressingly:
"Ah, Joe, tell me it's a joke."
"No," said Joe, earnestly, "it's what I've got to face, Marty, and I need your backing."
Marty mused miserably.
"So the game's up, and you've changed, and we men can go to the dogs.
Why, we can't run that printery without you. We'd go plumb to hell!"
Joe changed his voice—it became more commanding.