ys.

"'Oh yes,' he says, 'I've got a soul, but the trouble is,' he says,
'I've got a lot of other vital organs, too. When I ponder,' he says,
'and remember how many times I've got up from the table and gone away
leaving bones and potato peels and clam shells and lobster claws on the
plate--when I think,' he says, 'of them old care-free, prodigal days, I
could bust right out crying.'

"'Sh-h!' I says, 'food has gone out of fashion--the best people ain't
eating any more. Put your mind on something else,' I says. 'Consider the
setting sun,' I says, 'a-sinking in the golden west. Gaze yonder,' I
says, 'upon that great yellow orb with all them fleecy white clouds
banked up behind it.'

"'I'm gazing,' he says. 'It looks something like a aig fried on one
side. That's the way I always uster take mine,' he says, 'before I quit
eating--fried with the sunny side up.'

"I changed the subject.

"'Ain't it a remarkable fact,' I says, 'how this district is addicted to
dogs? Look at that there little stray pup, yonder,' I says, 'jumping up
and down in the wild mustard, making himself all warm and panty. That's
an edifying sight,' I says.

"'You bet,' says the Sweet Caps Kid, kind of dreamy, 'it's a great
combination,' he says, '--hot dog with fresh mustard. That's the way we
got 'em at Coney,' he says.

"'Sweet Caps,' I says, 'you are breaking my heart. Desist,' I says. 'I
ask you to desist. If you don't desist,' I says, 'I'm going to tear your
head off by the roots and after that I'll probably get right rough with
you. Fellow me,' I says, 'and don't speak another word of no description
whatsoever. I've got a plan,' I says, 'and if it don't work I'll know
them calamity howlers is right and I wont vote Democratic never
again--not,' I says, 'if I have to vote for Bryan!'

"He trails along behind me, and his head is hanging low and he mutters
to hisself. Injun file we retraces our weary footsteps until we comes
once more to the village of Plentiful Valley. We goes along Main
Street--I know it's Main Street because it's the only street there
is--until we comes to a small brick building which you could tell by the
bars at the windows that it was either the local bank or the calaboose.
On the steps of this here establishment stands a party almost entirely
concealed in whiskers. But on his breast I sees a German silver badge
gleaming like a full moon seen through thick brush.

"'The town constable, I believe?' I says to him.

"'T