“Let us hope that it is not too late,” I says.
“How do you mean too late?”
“I mean that He has not got His spring suit already and paid too much for it.”
“But what harm would that do?”
“Well,” I says, “but if it aint a true story it would be no good.”
“That can be fixed up,” he says. “If the Spokesman has got a suit that is not economical enough it can be for a present to His chef up there at the big white house or maybe for the captain of His yacht,” he says. And then he rushes away right off because he thinks that if the Spokesman knows about this He may be able to get some sleep tonight which is something He needs even worse than exercise for His liver.
And so then I start out for home and gee Mom it is awful because it has started to rain. There I am with my new suit and my new hat and shoes and gloves and I haven’t got my umbrella and besides it is busted and if I was to buy a new one I should not have no lunch for the rest of this week and the next. And so I stand in the doorway of the restaurant waiting for the rain to stop but it gets worse and I stand till my legs is ready to give away and the tears is running down my cheeks as bad as the rain and gee Mom it is sure awful to be a poor girl and have only one chance to look decent in your whole life-time and then see you got to lose that chance.
Well I look around and standing under the awning of the next store who do you think I see—the feller that has been shadowing Mr. Edgerton and me! And suddenly I gets red hot and I goes over to him and I says, “What are you following me round for?”
Well of course he is rattled and he stammers, “I aint been following you lady I am waiting for the rain to stop.”
“You husky brute with an umbrella and rubber shoes on?” I says. “Go and tell that to the judge,” I says. “What is it you want out of me?”