Why, it's perfectly
plain to anybody with a grain of intelligence that he's the leader
of that gang of anarchists. All he had to do was to speak to
them,--in their own language, mind you,--and back they slunk to
their quarters. They obeyed him because he is their chosen leader,
and that's all there is to this--What say, Fitts?"
Mr. Fitts, who was not a satellite but a very irritating Christian
gentleman, cleared his throat and said:
"I didn't speak, Mr. Landover. I always make a noise like that
when I yawn. It's an awfully middle-class habit I've gotten into.
Still, don't you think one obtains a little more--shall we say
enjoyment?--a little more enjoyment out of a yawn if he lets go and
puts his whole soul into it? Of course, it isn't really necessary
to utter the 'hi-ho-hum!' quite so vociferously as I do,--in fact,
it might even be better to omit it altogether,--if possible,--when
some one else is speaking. There are, I grant you, other ways of
expressing one's complete mastery of the art of yawning, such as
a prolonged but audible sigh, or a sort of muffled howl, or even a
series of blissful little shrieks peculiar to the feminine of the
species,--any one of these, I admit, is a trifle more elegant and
up-to-date, but they all lack the splendid resonance,--you might
even say grandiloquence,--of the old-fashioned 'hi-ho-hum!' to
which I am addicted.
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