"Our brotherhood," says he.
"Can't be very exclusive," says I, "if I've qualified so easy. Any partic'lar passwords or grip to it?"
"We rehearsed the whole ritual before you sat down," says he. "The friendly glance, that's all. And now—well, I prefer to be called Alvin."
"So-o-o?" says I sort of distant. But I'd no more'n got it out than I felt mean. What if he was a con man, or worse? I ought to be able to take care of myself. So I goes on, "McCabe's my name; but among friends I'm gen'rally known as Shorty."
"The best of credentials!" says he. "Then hail, Shorty, and welcome to the Free Brotherhood of Ego Tamers!"
I shakes my head puzzled. "Now I've lost you," says I. "If it's a comedy line, shoot it."
"Ah, but it's only tragedy," says Alvin, "the original tragedy of man. See how its blight rests on these around us! Simply over-stimulation of the ego; our souls in the strait-jacket of self; no freedom of thought or word or deed to our fellows. Ego, the tyrant, rules us. Only we of the Free Brotherhood are seeking to tame ours. Do I put it clumsily?"
"If you was readin' it off a laundry ticket, it couldn't be clearer," says I. "Something about tappin' the upper-case I too frequent, ain't it?"
"An excellent paraphrase," says he. "You have it!"
"Gee!" says I. "Didn't know I was so close behind you. But whisper, I ain't got my Ego on the mat with his tongue out, not yet."