"Easy fur you to say so, Brother Poindexter; harder fur me to do so," stated Æsop. "Gallivantin' 'round the way you is, you ain't got no idea of the aggervations w'ich keeps comin' up in connection wid an occasion sech ez this one, an' mo' 'specially the aggervations w'ich pussonally afflicts the director-general of the same, w'ich I is him."
"I been hearin' somethings myse'f," said Jeff. "Word is come to me, fur one thing, that this yere smart-ellicky gang out at the Belt Line Park is aimin' to try to cut some of the groun' frum under yore feet. I regrets to hear it."
"'Tain't them so much," said Æsop. "We couldn't 'spect to go 'long havin' a nomopoly furever. Sooner or late they wuz bound to be opposition arisin' up. 'Tain't them so much, although I will say it wuz a low-flung trick to tek an' rent that park right out frum under our noses 'thout givin' us no warnin' so's we mout go an' rent it fu'st. No, hit's the action of that Emmanuel Chapel bunch w'ich gives me the mos' deepest concern. Seems lak ev'ry time that Rev'n' Sin Killer open his mouth I kin feel cold cash crawlin' right out of my pocket. Mind you, Brother Poindexter, I ain't got a word to say ag'in religion. I's strong fur it on Sundays, ez you well knows, but dog-gone religion w'en it come interferin' wid a pusson's chanct to pick up a little spare change fur hisse'f on a week-day!"
"Spoke lak a true business man, Brother Lovin'," said Jeff. "Still, I reckin you's mebbe countin' the spoilt eggs 'fore they's all laid. The way I sees it, you'll do fairly well, nevertheless an' to the contrary notwithstandin'. Le's see. Ain't you goin' to have the dancin'-pavilion goin' all day?"
"Ain't you goin' to have money rollin' in frum all the snack-stands an' frum the fried-fish privilege an' frum the cane rackits an' frum the knock-the-babies-down an' all?"
"Ain't you due to pick up a right smart frum the kitty of the private crap game an' the chuck-a-luck layout?"
"Hole on; I ain't th'ough yit. Seems lak to me you ain't properly counted up yore blessin's a-tall. Ain't the near-beer--" he sank his voice discreetly, although there was no one to overhear "ain't the near-beer an' the _still nearer_ beer goin' fetch you in a right peart lil' income? I'll say they is. An' ain't you goin' do mighty well on yore own account out of yore share of the commission frum Gumbo Rollinses' Flyin' Jinny?"