"You promise not to tell?" I ast her.
"Sure!" she says.
"Well," I says, "that's one promise you'll keep."
And I buried my good ear in the feathers.
At twenty minutes to two, Saturday afternoon, I landed my entire party at the dock, foot o' Wabash Avenue.
"Goody!" says Bess. "We're goin' acrost the lake."
"If the boat stays up."
"I don't know if I ought to go or not," says Bishop. "I'd ought to be where I can keep in touch with the Criterion people."
"They got a wireless aboard," I says.