I was so
hungry that it was only when I asked for a third large roll that I
noticed momma regarding me with mild disapproval.
"I fear," she said with a little sigh, "that you are thinking very
little of what is past and gone, love."
"Momma," I replied, "don't spoil my breakfast." When momma can throw an
emotional chill over anything, I never knew her to refrain. "I _should_
like that _garcon_ to bring me some more bread," I continued.
Momma sighed even more deeply. "You may have part of mine," she replied,
breaking it with a gesture that said such callousness she could not
understand. Her manner for the next few minutes expressed distinctly
that she, at least, meant to do her duty by Arthur.
Presently from the other side of poppa came the words, "_Not_ Wick of
Chicago!"
"I guess I can't deny it," said poppa.
"Senator Wick?"
Poppa lowered his voice. "If it's all the same to you," he said, "not
for the present. Just plain Joshua P. Wick. I'm not what you call
travelling incognito, do you see, but, so far as the U.S. Senate is
concerned, I haven't got it with me.
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