and the boys hollering extras about the latest suicide. For the wine, give me a reasonable Ponty Cany. And that’s all, except a demi-tasse.”
“Well,” says Caligula, “I reckon in New York you get to be a conniseer; and when you go around with the demi-tasse you are naturally bound to buy ’em stylish grub.”
“It’s a great town for epicures,” says I. “You’d soon fall into their ways if you was there.”
“I’ve heard it was,” says Caligula. “But I reckon I wouldn’t. I can polish my fingernails all they need myself.”
II
After breakfast we went out on the front porch, lighted up two of the landlord’s flor de upas perfectos, and took a look at Georgia.
The installment of scenery visible to the eye looked mighty poor. As far as we could see was red hills all washed down with gullies and scattered over with patches of piny woods. Blackberry bushes was all that kept the rail fences from falling down. About fifteen miles over to the north was a little range of well-timbered mountains.
That town of Mountain Valley wasn’t going. About a dozen people permeated along the sidewalks;
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