"The sight of you at hard labor," said Finnegan, from a bureau on the other side of the room, "would fill me with cheer, delectation and comfort."
The Tennessee Shad, by four convulsive processes, reached his feet.
"Oh, very well," he said carelessly. "Thought you preferred to run this show yourselves."
Picking up a poster, he selected with malicious intent the most unsuitable spot in the room and started to climb the bureau, remarking:
"This is about it, I should say."
The artistic souls of Dink and Dennis protested.
"Murder, no!"
"You chump!"
"Too big for it."
"Well, if you know so much," said the Tennessee Shad, halting before the last upward struggle and holding out the poster, "where would you put it?"