“But they have no manners,” said the lady.

“They have excellent manners,” said Jackson. “Western manners. But they’re tolerant folks. They’ll overlook the fact that you ain’t took a bite of food yet, nor drunk any good corn liquor, nor spat once even though you always look like you got a mouth full of somethin’.” Mike Fink laughed long and hard at this, and so did the roomers, though some were laughing at the lady and some were laughing at Jackson.

Arthur Stuart asked a question that was bothering Alvin. “How does Andy Jackson get anything done, if the Simple House is full of river rats and bumpkins all day?”

“He needs something done, why, one of us river rats went and done it for him,” said Mike.

“But most rivermen can’t read or write,” Arthur said.

“Well, Old Hickory can do all the readin’ and writin’ for hisself,” said Mike. “He sends the river rats to deliver messages and persuade people.”

“Persuade people?” asked Alvin. “I hope they don’t use the methods of persuasion you once tried on me”

Mike whooped at that. “Iffen Old Hickory let the boys do those old tricks, I don’t think there’d be six noses left in Congress, nor twenty ears!”

Finally, though, the tales of the frolicking at the Simple House—or degradation, depending on your point of view—wound down and the other roomers left. Only Alvin and Arthur, as latecomers, were still eating as they made their serious reports on the day’s work.

Mike shook his head sadly when Alvin asked him if he’d had a chance to talk to Andy Jackson. “Oh, he included me in the room, if that’s what you mean. But talking alone, no, not likely. See, Andy Jackson may be a lawyer but he knows river rats, and my name rang a bell with him. Haven’t lived down my old reputation yet, Alvin. Sorry.”

Alvin smiled and waved off the apology. “There’ll come a day when the president will meet with us.”

“It was premature, anyway,” said Verily. “Why try for a land grant when we don’t even know what we’re going to use it for?”

“Do so,” said Alvin, playing at a children’s quarrel.

“Do not,” said Verily, grinning.

“We got a city to build.”

“No sir,” said Verily. “We have the name of a city, but we don’t have the plan of a city, or even the idea of the city—”

“It’s a city of Makers!”

“Well, it would have been nice if the Red Prophet had told you what that means,” said Verily.

“He showed it to me inside the waterspout,” said Alvin. “He doesn’t know what it means any more than I do. But we both saw it, a city made of glass, filled with people, and the city itself taught them everything.”

“Amid all that seeing,” said Verily, “did you perhaps hear a hint of what we’re supposed to tell people to persuade them to come and help us build it?”

“I take it that means you didn’t accomplish what you set out to do, either,” said Alvin.