“Then,” said my companion firmly, “I think we’d better go and have our lunch.”

It seemed to me time to back him up in this demand.  By dint of considerable insistence we persuaded our enthusiastic cicerone to drive to the hotel, where we found a table already set for us.

“I want to tell you,” said the secretary as we sat down, “about the agricultural progress this section has been making.  Until recently our farmers raised nothing but cotton; they didn’t even feed themselves, but lived largely on canned goods.  But the boll weevil and the European War, affecting the cotton crop and the cotton market as they did, forced the farmers to wake up.”

The secretary talked interestingly on this subject for perhaps a quarter of an hour, during which time we waited for luncheon to be served.

“You see,” he said, “our climate is such that it is possible to rotate crops more than in most parts of the country.  Cotton is now a surplus crop with us, and our farmers are raising cattle, vegetables, and food products.”

“Speaking of food products,” said my companion, “I wonder if we could hurry up the lunch?”

“It will be along in a little while,” soothed the secretary.  Then he returned to agriculture.

Ten minutes more passed.  I saw that my companion was becoming nervous.

“I’m sorry to trouble you,” he said at last, “but if we can’t speed up this luncheon, I don’t see how I can wait.  You see, we are leaving town this evening, and I have an awful lot to do.”

“I’ll step back and investigate,” the secretary said, rising and moving toward the kitchen door.

When he was out of hearing, my companion leaned toward me.

“I suspect this fellow!” he said.

“What of?”

“I think he’s delaying us on purpose.  He’s a nice chap, but it’s his business to boost this town, and he’s artful.  He doesn’t want us to see the street fair.  That’s why he’s stalling like this!”

Now, however, the secretary returned, followed by a waiter bearing soup.

The soup was fine, but it was succeeded by another long interval, during which the secretary said some very, very beautiful things about the charm of Montgomery life.  However, it was clear to me that my companion was not interested.  After he had looked at his watch several times, and drummed a long tattoo upon the table, he arose, declaring: 

“I can’t wait another minute.”

“Sit down, my dear fellow,” said the secretary in his most genial tone.  “I am having some special southern dishes prepared for you.”

“You’re very kind,” said my companion, “but I must get to work.  It’s half-past four now; we are leaving in a few hours.  It will take me an hour to make my sketches, and the light will be failing pretty soon.”

“What are you going to sketch?” It seemed to me that there was suppressed emotion in the secretary’s voice as he asked the question.