“I wouldn’t think o’ doin’ it,” says she. “They may play all right, but think o’ how they talk and how they dress!”
“Well,” I says, “between you and I, I ain’t goin’ to take cyanide over a piece o’ news like this. Somehow it don’t appeal to me to vote myself dry every Tuesday night all winter—to say nothin’ o’ two dollars a week annual dues to help buy a prize that I got no chance o’ winnin’ and wouldn’t know what to do with it if I had it.”
“It’d of been nice, though,” she says, “to make friends with them people.”
“Well,” I says, “I’ll feel a little more confident o’ doin’ that if I see ’em once a year—or not at all.”