“I don’t care if they’re all escapades from Milford Junction,” he says. “We ain’t runnin’ no Hoosier Welfare League.”
“You’re smart, ain’t you?” I says.
“I got to be,” says the agent.
“But if you was a little smarter you’d be this side o’ the cage instead o’ that side,” says I.
“Do you want these tickets or don’t you?” he says.
So I seen he didn’t care for no more verbal collisions with me, so I give him the two tickets and a bonus o’ ten bucks and he give me back four pasteboards and throwed in a envelope free for nothin’.
I passed up lunch Tuesday because I wanted to get home early and have plenty o’ time to dress. That was the idear and it worked out every bit as successful as the Peace Ship. In the first place, I couldn’t get in my room because that’s where the Missus and Bess was makin’ up. In the second place, I didn’t need to of allowed any time for supper because there wasn’t none. The Wife said her and Bessie’d been so busy with their clo’es that they’d forgot a little thing like supper.
“But I didn’t have no lunch,” I says.
“That ain’t my fault,” says the Missus. “Besides, we can all go somewheres and eat after the show.”
“On who?” I says.
“You’re givin’ the party,” says she.
“The invitations didn’t contain no clause about the inner man,” says I. “Furthermore, if I had the ten dollars back that I spent today for tickets, I’d have eleven dollars altogether.”