CHAPTER XVI
SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO
I'd strolled into the front office in my shirt sleeves, and was leanin' against the gym door listenin' to Pinckney and his friend slangin' each other—and, believe me, it's a wonderful gift to be able to throw the harpoon refined and polite that way!
"Larry," says Pinckney, lookin' him over reproachful, "you are hopeless. You merely cumber the earth."
"Having made an art of being useless," says Larry, "you should be an excellent judge."
"You think you flatter me," says Pinckney; "but you don't. I live my life as it comes. You are botching yours."
"Hear, hear!" says Larry. "The butterfly sermonizes!"
"Insect yourself!" says Pinckney.
"My word!" says Larry. "Chucking entomology at me too! Well, have it that I'm a grasshopper. My legs are long enough."
"It's your ears that are long, Larry," says Pinckney.