“Don’t think!” ordered Dick sternly. “Sit down there and help me write a letter to that editor man that’ll blister his hide and make him let me alone after this! Come on now. How would you begin it?”
In the end it turned out to be a very brief and very formal and extremely polite epistle which thanked the Leonardville Sentinel for its interest but requested that hereafter Mr. Richard Bates’s name be excluded from its columns since Mr. Richard Bates disliked publicity.
“Great stuff!” commented Stanley when Dick had read over the final draft. “Sounds so fine and modest. Hadn’t you better enclose a check for that write-up, though? You don’t want him to think——”
Stanley, however, was now looking into the muzzle of a paper-weight, so to speak, and his words dwindled to silence. Dick, cowing him further with a sustained glare, replaced the paper-weight and directed an envelope. When the letter was sealed and stamped Dick again fixed his companion with a ferocious and intimidating look. “You keep quiet about this, Stan,” he said, “or I’ll bust you all up into a total loss! Understand?” Stanley nodded.
“Well, say so then!”
“Dick, you have my sacred word of honour that never so long as I do live will I so much as breathe a single syllabub of this thing save that I do have your permission to so do, though wild hearses drag my body asunder and——”
“Oh, shut up! But you remember! If I find you’ve told Blash or—or anyone I’ll lick you, Stan!”
“I hear and I obey in fear and trembling,” responded Stanley humbly. “Least of all will I ever divulge a word to that exclusive organization, the Banjo and Mandolin Club, Dick! And if you want any assistance in entertaining——”