"But, Belford, that's not the point. Of course there may be a left-handed man in a fight, but nine chances to one a man is right-handed, and the stage must take the course that is the most probable. No, Sir, you don't want to shock a critical sense of fitness by having a man pull a pistol with his left hand. Such breaks always tend to wound a sensitive nature. Any man in your drama pull a pistol that way, Belford?"
"No, if a pistol is drawn at all it shall be in the accepted form."
"All right," he said, resuming his walk. "Any ragged girl talk like a clodhopper until she is insulted and then talk like a princess? Anybody say 'stronger?' No human being except a fool on the stage ever said 'stronger' for stranger. Any fat woman in short skirts trying to be a girl? Any tramp with more ability than an ancient philosopher? Any female detective that doesn't know she loves a suspected thief until she has had him put in jail? Got any of those things?"
"I'll take an oath that I have none of those tantalizing features, Senator."
"Then, Sir, it will be a go. Yes, Sir, the world can't stop it. Why, come in, Patsey. Remember Mr. Belford, don't you?"
I shook hands with the old lady, placed a chair for her and gave her my fan, and she rewarded me with an old-time courtesy.
"Gracious me," she said, "it's so hot down here that I wonder everybody doesn't take to the hills. I wouldn't live in this flat country."
"Why, Sister Patsey," the Senator spoke up, "Bolanyo is on a hill."
"A hill? Giles, you don't know what a real hill looks like, it's been so long since you saw one. Why, where I live you can sometimes look down on a cloud."
"Yes, and it's a good deal better to live above a cloud than to be under one, Sister Patsey."