Meself, and me partner, Dannie Micnoun, are
the lady-likest lambs in the bunch. We grow grub to feed folks in
summer and trap for skins to cover 'em in winter. Corn is our great
commodity. Plowin' and hoein' it in summer, and huskin' it in the
fall is sich lamb-like work. But don't mintion it in the same brith
with tendin' our four dozen fur traps on a twenty-below-zero day.
Freezing hands and fate, and fallin' into air bubbles, and building
fires to thaw out our frozen grub. Now here among us poor little,
transmutin', lambs you come, a raging lion, ripresentin' the
cultour and rayfinement of the far East. By the pleats on your
breast you show us the style. By the thrid case in your hand you
furnish us material so that our women can tuck their petticoats so
fancy, and by the book in your head you teach us your sooperiority.
By the same token, I wish I had that book in me head, for I could
just squelch Dannie and Mary with it complate. Say, Mister
O'Khayam, next time you come this way bring me a copy. I'm
wantin' it bad. I got what you gave off all secure, but I take it
there's more. No man goin' at that clip could shut off with thim
few lines. Do you know the rist?"
The Thread Man knew the most of it, and although he was very
uncomfortable, he did not know just how to get away, so he recited
it. The milk pail was empty now, and Jimmy had almost forgotten
that it was a milk pail, and seemed inclined to resent the fact
that it had gone empty.
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