climb up de ladder, 'ca'se de sta'rsteps is broke down, en you'll find
me. I's a-roostin' in de ha'nted house 'ca'se I can't 'ford to roos'
nowher's else." She started toward the door, but stopped and said,
"Gimme de dollah bill!" He gave it to her. She examined it and said,
"H'm--like enough de bank's bu'sted." She started again, but halted
again. "Has you got any whisky?"

"Yes, a little."

"Fetch it!"

He ran to his room overhead and brought down a bottle which was
two-thirds full. She tilted it up and took a drink. Her eyes sparkled
with satisfaction, and she tucked the bottle under her shawl, saying,
"It's prime. I'll take it along."

Tom humbly held the door for her, and she marched out as grim and erect
as a grenadier.




CHAPTER 9 -- Tom Practices Sycophancy

_Why is it that we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a
funeral? It is because we are not the person involved._ --
Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar

_It is easy to find fault, if one has that disposition.
There was once a man who, not being able to find any other