“What for, now? Do leave me be. I’m going to bed. I’m just wore out, trot-trottin’ from Pontius to Pilate, luggin’ salt, and—” he finished by yawning most prodigiously.
“Firs’-rate sign, that gapin’. Yes—sign you’re healthy and able to do all’s needed. There’s no rest for you this night. Come—here—take this basket to the beach. If your canoe needs pitchin’, pitch it. There’s the lantern. If one goes into the show business he learns right now to work and travel o’ nights. Yes—start—I’ll follow and explain.”
[TO BE CONTINUED]
“Believe not each accusing tongue,
As most weak people do;
But still believe that story wrong
Which ought not to be true.”
—R. B. Sheridan.