random simile. "It's the same way with me in sampling politics, being an
expert. Your case, to start with, had me gy-poogled and--"

"English language, I tell you!" Britt emphasized his stand as a stickler
by a tremendous thump of his fist on the desk.

Orne jabbed his finger back and forth from his breast to the direction
of Britt, with the motions of the "eeny, meeny" game. "I was mistook.
You was mistook. I figgered on your money. So did you. I figgered you'd
go strong in politics like you had in _finance_. So did you." Mr. Orne
put his hand up sidewise and sliced the air. "Nothing doing in politics,
Mr. Britt! You can cash in on straight capital, but there ain't a cent
in the dollar for you when you try to collect in what you 'ain't ever
invested. A man don't have to be so blamed popular after he is well
settled in politics; but you've got to have some real human-nature
assets to get a start with. You've got to depend on given votes--not the
boughten ones."

"Orne, you're rasping me mighty hard."

"You demanded facts--not hair-oil talk."

"Then the facts are--" Britt hesitated.

"Facts is that, by the usual arrangement in the legislative class of
towns, Egypt had the choice this year. You won't get a vote in Egypt."

"But the men who come in here--" Again Britt halted in a sentence.

"The men who come in here and sit down at that desk and pick up a pen