The Sorrows of a Show Girl by Kenneth McGaffey
page 37 of 142 (26%)
page 37 of 142 (26%)
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over and I found out that they knew several people I did, and anyway
they were from New York and that helped a heap. They were going to leave that afternoon, but I prevailed upon them to stay over until the next day. I was invited into the hotel for dinner, and we opened the first bottle of champagne wine, as they say out West, that had been opened in Emporia since the Governor went through. In truth, the bottle was covered with specks, and the label had faded so you could hardly read it, but when the cork went 'wop!' three traveling men at the next table burst into tears. "After we had consumed all the champagne wine they had in the snare, I tipped them off to a speak-easy, and we decided to ride down there in the machine, and then go for a little tour, as it were. By this time it had been noised through the city that some one had taken the bottle out of the show window, and a large crowd had assembled to see the plutocrats come forth. We capered blithely out to the machine, climbed in and hiked for the blind tiger. After the usual red tape the captain sold us about two quarts of jig-juice--the kind that makes a jack-rabbit spit in a bulldog's eye. "Anon, we again went for a ride, and I am here to state that the way we breezed through that village made the proverbial Kansas cyclone look as if it was running on crutches. The inhabitants that didn't duck for the cellars stood on the plankwalk and made rude and discomplimentary remarks. Some well-meaning Rube had tipped his mitt to the town marshal, and that worthy cluck had stretched a rope from the blacksmith shop to the corner of the livery stable, so naturally we had to pause. Enter Marshal R.U.E. with business of making a pinch. After filing the usual protests we were haled before the Magistrate. Here's a copy of the testimony: |
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