This uncertainty was expressed with such gentleness that Barker roared. “You never did lie to me,” he said, “long as I’ve known you. Well, never mind. I’ve got some real advice to ask you now.”
At this Mr. McLean’s face grew more alert. “Say, Doc,” said he, “what do yu’ want for Christmas that nobody’s likely to give yu’?”
“A big practice—big enough to interfere with my politics.”
“What else? Things and truck, I mean.”
“Oh—nothing I’ll get. People don’t give things much to fellows like me.”
“Don’t they? Don’t they?”
“Why, you and Santa Claus weren’t putting up any scheme on my stocking?”
“Well—”
“I believe you’re in earnest!” cried his Excellency. “That’s simply rich!” Here was a thing to relish! The Frontier comes to town “heeled for a big time,” finds that presents are all the rage, and must immediately give somebody something. Oh, childlike, miscellaneous Frontier! So thought the good-hearted Governor; and it seems a venial misconception. “My dear fellow,” he added, meaning as well as possible, “I don’t want you to spend your money on me.”