"I don't like to have folks talkin' so loose and free about me," was the Tweezy explanation.
"Duh-hic-quite right," hiccuped Racey Dawson. "An' you are, too, y'old catawampus. You a friend o' mim-mine, Lul-luke?"
"Shore," said Luke, with an eye out for another upset glass.
"Then lend me huh-hundred dollars, Lul-Luke."
"Lend you a hundred dollars! On what security?"
"My wuh-word," Racey strove to say with dignity. "Ain't that enough?"
"Shore, but—but I ain't got a hundred dollars with me to-day."
"Bub-but you can gug-get it," Racey insisted, weaving his head from side to side in a snake-like manner.
"We-ell, I dunno. You see, Racey—"
"I nun-need the money," interrupted Racey. "I'm broke—bub-broke bad. Swing's broke, too. That's too bad—I mean that's two bub-boke brad—whistle twice for the crossing—I mean—Aw, hell, I know whu-what I mean if-fif you don't. You lul-lend me that mum-money, Lul-Luke, like a good feller."