“No, I can’t seem to have forgot anything. What is it?”
“Look at me,” says I, “look me all over.”
He done it.
“Well?” says he.
“Well,” says I, “you don’t notice anything? If I branched out amongst
the elect looking like this, wouldn’t I attract considerable
attention?—wouldn’t I be a little conspicuous?”
“Well,” he says, “I don’t see anything the matter. What do you lack?”
“Lack! Why, I lack my harp, and my wreath, and my halo, and my
hymn-book, and my palm branch—I lack everything that a body naturally
requires up here, my friend.”
Puzzled? Peters, he was the worst puzzled man you ever saw. Finally he
says—
“Well, you seem to be a curiosity every way a body takes you. I never
heard of these things before.”