noon
Say , but it ai n't any cinch , this breakin ' into public life , is it ? The obscure guy with the dinner pail and the calloused palms thinks he has hard lines ; but when the whistle blows he can wipe his trowel on his overalls and forget it all until next day . But here I tosses around restless in the feathers , and am up at daybreak goin ' over my piece again , trembly in the knees , with a vivid mental picture of how cheap I 'd feel if I should go to pieces when the time came . A good breakfast pepped me up a lot , though , and by noon I had them few remarks of mine so I could say 'em backwards or forwards . How they was goin ' to sound outside of my room was another matter . I had my doubts along that line ; but I was goin ' to give 'em the best I had in stock . It was most time for the session to begin when Vincent boy trots in with a card announcin ' Mr. Henry Clay Rowley .