"Her sister was restored."
The American began impulsively:
"Well, I must say that's rather rough on.... Why, her vow had nothing to do with.... You know her sister would have...." It seemed that none of the sentences which the American began could be concluded with courtesy. Finally he was left suspended in air, with a slight perspiration on his face. He drew out a silk handkerchief, dabbed his face, and wiped his wrists.
"General," he floundered on to solider ground, "now, about how many rifles are you going to want?"
The dictator looked at him, almost as much at loss as the drummer had been.
"Rifles?"
"Yes," proceeded the drummer, becoming quite his enthusiastic self again at this veering back to business. "You see, it will depend upon what you are going to do with 'em, how many you will need. If you are just going to hold this state which you have ... er ... seized, why, you won't need so many, but if you are going out and try to grab some more towns, you'll need a lot more."
With a penetrating scrutiny the dictator considered his guest.
"Why do you ask such a question, Señor Strawbridge?" he inquired in a changed tone.
"Because it's your business."