into our faces when all of a sudden I hears a fellow at the next table—
Now mind you, if I hadn't learned later that he was a farmer, I wouldn't have known it, nor anybody else, not even the shrewdest observer. Why say, that fellow was dressed in a nice neat conservative College Park mixed-worsted suit, same as I was, and his wife, and a real bright little woman she was, too, she had on almost as nice a closefitting cloche hat as Mame herself. But I mean to say: you couldn't have told they was farming folks—fact is, later, when I just happened to run into him at my garage, he told me that he was in the habit of reading the Cosmopolitan and all the best literature, just the same as we do in the big cities.
Well, as I say, this fellow, he kind of leaned forward, and he says to me, "Pretty nice place, this."
"It certainly is," I says.
"Say," he says, "while maybe the food itself
