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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"

He can tell you all he wants to. But not me. Nix, kid. Not
even to you and old Joey here, the greatest close-mouth in the
business. Why, I saw Joey last winter in that pantomime out West, and
he never said a word from the time the curtain went up till it went
down. Talk about your tight-lipped guys! Say, he's the king of them
all. He's the only actor I ever saw that wasn't kickin' for more words
to conquer. These gabby actors just give me a--"
"For heaven's sake, Dick, be serious!" cried David impatiently. "You
_must_ talk to us openly, frankly about--"
"I'm sorry, David," interrupted Dick, his face grave in an instant. "I
can't talk about it. I'd sooner not. You see, I've got to consider
Ernie. He's absolutely innocent. If I got to spoutin' around, I might
say something that could be twisted so's it would hurt him. So, if you
don't mind, I'll talk about the weather. How is it down in old
Virginia? How's old Jeff? And how is the cook-lady at Jenison Hall?
Say, I wish you'd mention me to her. I'm the ghost that took her pies
and cold chicken, you remember."
It was useless for them to continue.


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