"I was comin' to it. Perfessor, I'll be frank. I need money—"
"You need brains!"
"No," he said good-humouredly, "I've got 'em; plenty of 'em; I'm overstocked with idees. What I want to do is to sell you a few—"
"Do you know you are impudent!"
"Listen, friend. I seen a piece in the papers as how you was to make the speech of your life when you ride the goat for these here guys on April first—"
"I decline to listen—"
"One minute, friend! I want to ask you one thing! What are you going to talk about?"
I was already moving away but I stopped and stared at him.
"That's the question," he nodded with unimpaired cheerfulness, "what are you going to talk about on April the first? Remember it's the hot-air party of your life. Ree-member that each an' every paper in the United States will print what you say. Now, how about it, friend? Are you up in your lines?"
Swallowing my repulsion for him I said: "Why are you concerned as to what may be the subject of my approaching address?"