“Oh,” says she and then stares at us.
“Her hair was gug-golden, and her lips was blue.
Her eyes was sweeter than the morning dew.
Her nose was like sea-shells, and her ears was pug—
“And I’d like to assassinate Mike Pelly and J. B. Whittaker—honest to gosh!” says Muley, still on his hands and knees with his hat down over one eye.
“Ma’am, it sure pains me to tell you this, but—you’ve got to go right back where you came from,” says Chuck sad-like. “Honestly.”
“Go back?” she gasps, and Chuck nods.
“Yes’m. You’ve got to. Not on our account, ma’am, but there seems to be a sentiment against women. One of them says that women is the banes of his existence, and the other says that—aw, Telescope, you talk a little. I ain’t going to stand here all day arguing with a perfect lady.”
“You heard him say it, ma’am,” agrees Telescope. “They’re against a woman. Now if you was a—wait a minute! Gosh, lady, I got a hy-iu scheme. We’ll slip one over on the women-haters.”
Telescope grabs her by the arm, and the lady acts mystified-like.
“I—I don’t understand,” says she. “I—I——”
“This ain’t no time or place to settle it,” says Telescope. “Come on, everybody.”