Mr. Scraggs by Henry Wallace Phillips
page 26 of 123 (21%)
page 26 of 123 (21%)
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"Was I warned? Well, I dunno, anyhow, I trotted myself out to the
street to see what this here Metropolus business had to offer different from just plain St. Looey. "And I found out. Dear friends and brothers, I wonder have you ever seen a man reachin', reachin' for a playin'-card layin' prostrate on the table before him, when his last chip is in the pile, his last cent in the chip, all manners and kinds of bills comin' due tomorrow, the house to close in fifteen minutes, and hopin' that card is just one more little two-spot? Are you familiar with the lines of anggwish on his face? Well, of all the hullabaloo, skippin', flyin', pushin', haulin', rompin', tearin', maulin' and scratchin' messes I ever got into, that street was the worst. At the end of fifteen minutes I had no life in me above my feet, and they was simply slidin', the one before the other, without any aim or purpose. I stood on a corner clawin' hunks of fog off my intellect. In two minutes more I'd ha' yearned for Mrs. Scraggs and Home. I lost all intention of drawin' sustenance out of the inhabitants, when all of a suddent up steps one of these brisk, smart, zippee-zippee-zizoo-ketch-me-if-you-kin young city fellers, the kind of lu-lu joker to go through a countryman like a lightnin' express through a tunnel, leavin' nothin' but the hole and a little smoke, and says he, in a hurry: "'Sorry to have kept you waitin', Mr. Johnson, but knowin' how much it meant to both of us, I----Oh, I beg your pardon!' says he; 'I mistook you for a friend of mine--no offense, I hope?' "Now, this same person had on a soup-pot hat that looked borrowed, and he wore his clothes like he used 'em for a hiding-place, but |
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