The Varmint

Excerpt: ...spectacles riding an aquiline nose, now shuffled in with his dictionary under his arm, his fingers between the leaves of a Cicero to which he still clung. "Mr. Hall," said the Tennessee Shad with a flourish, "take any chair in the room." Beekstein, alarmed by such generosity, sat down like a ramrod and cast a roving, anxious glance under the beds and behind the screen. "Beekstein," said the Tennessee Shad, to reassure him, "we have just organized the Kennedy Pg 207 Educational Quick Lunch Institute. The purpose is fraternal, patriotic and convivial. It will be most exclusive and very secret." He explained the working scheme and then added anxiously: "Now, Beekstein, you see the position of First Grand Hot Tamale will be the real thing. He will be, so to speak, Valedictorian of the Kennedy and certainly ought to be elected secretary of the house next year. Now, Beekstein, what we got you here for is this. What do you think of Gumbo for the position? Well, what?" Beekstein, in his agitation, withdrew his finger from the Orations of Cicero. "What's the matter with me?" he said directly. "Gumbo is only a second-rater." "He's very strong in mathematics." "That's the only thing he beats me on!" "Yes, but, Beekstein, there is another thing-a delicate subject. I don't know how to approach it. You see, we don't know how you're fixed for the spondulix," said the Tennessee Shad, who knew perfectly well the other's flourishing condition. "You see, this is not only educational, but a very select body, quite a secret society,-with a midnight spread now and then. Of course there are dues, you see. It would cost you a half a week." "Is that all?" said Beekstein, who had never Pg 208 belonged to a secret society in his life. "Here's the first month down. Right here." "I don't know how far we are committed to Gumbo," said the Tennessee Shad, not disdaining to finger the two-dollar bill. "But I'll do everything I can for you." Gumbo Binks, being consulted...