J. Archibald McKackney
business of our lives and been d—n proud of; the very thing that fetched us to this island, where we were so happy until"
Wilkins pulled at his beard and stared down at this mainspring of his sovereignty with a significant frown. Then he resumed:
"What is it? It is Whiskers. She abominates 'em. No, don't interrupt me. I don't want to have to be disrespectful, even though I am a king and you are my naturalized subject with the rank of Royal Whisker Inspector by brevet. But I can't allow you to criticize the doings or the motives of Miss Hulda Barnstable of Walpole, Mass. I repeat, she abominates 'em, hook, line and sinker. Whiskers to her sensitive soul are hateful, disturbin', odjus, like rattlesnakes. And I can't blame her, of course. Only I wish—I wish the foundations of my throne wasn't built on my Titian beard.
"I might as well tell you, sir, why she possesses this amazin' distaste for that noblest work of God, to wit, the Human Whisker." Wilkins continued after a lugubrious silence.
