“Heard my boy speak?” inquired one. “Reub Gadsden's his name.”
I told him I had heard no speaker thus far; and I mentioned Leola and Guy.
“Hope the boy'll give us 'The Jumping Frog' again,” said one. “I near bust.”
“What's the heifer speakin' this trip?” another inquired.
“Huh! Her!” said a third.
“You'll talk different, maybe, this time,” retorted the other.
“Not agin 'The Jumping Frog,' he won't,” the first insisted. “I near bust,” he repeated.
“I'd like for you to know my boy Reub,” said Mr. Gadsden to me, insinuatingly.
“Quit fixing' the judge, Al,” said Leola's backer. “Reub forgets his words, an' says 'em over, an' balks, an' mires down, an' backs out, an starts fresh, en' it's confusin' to foller him.”
“I'm glad to see you take so much interest, gentlemen,” said I.