I should worry about that.
On the way out I met Pee-wee shouting away like a machine gun.

"Come on up the street with me," I said; "I want to tell you something." When we were about a block off I said, "You listen here, kiddo.

I don't want you to be shouting about belt-axes and jack-knives and things like that in front of Skinny McCord.

I'm telling you that and I want you to remember it.

And I've got good reasons, too.