“Don’t forget the cowboys, Sandy.”
“Cowboys?”
“Yes; the knights, you know: You were going to tell me about them. A while back, you remember. Figuratively speaking, game’s called.”
“Game—”
“Yes, yes, yes! Go to the bat. I mean, get to work on your statistics, and don’t burn so much kindling getting your fire started. Tell me about the knights.”
“I will well, and lightly will begin. So they two departed and rode into a great forest. And—”
“Great Scott!”
You see, I recognized my mistake at once. I had set her works a-going; it was my own fault; she would be thirty days getting down to those facts. And she generally began without a preface and finished without a result. If you interrupted her she would either go right along without noticing, or answer with a couple of words, and go back and say the sentence over again. So, interruptions only did harm; and yet I had to interrupt, and interrupt pretty frequently, too, in order to save my life; a person would die if he let her monotony drip on him right along all day.
“Great Scott!” I said in my distress. She went right back and began over again:
“So they two departed and rode into a great forest. And—”