“Can't, hey? You wouldn't be popular at our perfect boarding house back home. There they serve Heman hot for breakfast and dinner, and warm him over for supper. All right, I can wait.”
The conversation wandered from Buenos Ayres to 'Frisco and back again until the cigars and coffee were reached. Then the congressman blew a fragrant ring into the air and, from behind it, looked quizzically at his companion.
“Well,” he observed, “so far as that appropriation of yours is concerned—”
He paused and blew a second ring. Captain Cy stroked his beard.
“Um—yes,” he drawled, “now that you mention it, seems to me there was some talk of an appropriation.”
Mr. Everdean laughed.
“I've been making inquiries,” he said. “I saw the chairman of the committee on the pork bill. I know him well. He's a good fellow, but—”
“Yes, I know. I've seen lots of politicians like that; they're all good fellers, but—If I was in politics I'd make a law to cut 'But' out of the dictionary.”
“Well, this chap really is a good fellow. I asked about the thirty thousand dollars for your town. He asked me why I didn't go to the congressman from that district, and not bother him about it. I said perhaps I would go to the congressman later, but I came to him first.”
“Sartin. Same as the feller with a sick mother-in-law stopped in at the undertaker's on his way to call the doctor. All right; heave ahead.”