Mr. Scraggs by Henry Wallace Phillips
page 29 of 123 (23%)
page 29 of 123 (23%)
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Uncle Sam. He just naturally laid his hooks on ten thousand
dollars' worth of one-hundred-dollar notes and flew the coop, waitin' to sign 'em and dispose of 'em at leisure, thus payin' his own claim. But here comes a hitch; after he done it his conscience bit him; the notes was good; he passed a lot of 'em with no trouble, but he quit on the play. Now, if some good, honest man, yet not quite so honest as all that, wanted to turn a dollar, he could buy two thousand dollars' worth of them bills for one hundred ordinary cold money. It's this way, too,' says he. 'It ain't only conscience; the old man's mortal scart; he's always dreamin' of Secret Service men comin' in on rubbers. Now, ain't that an opportunity?' "'Ya-a-as,' says I. "'Well,' says he, lookin' at his watch, 'it's now my time to eat, Mr. Scraggs, and I've took up so much of your valuable time chinnin' here, I don't feel I could do less than share my simple repast with you. I'm a stock-broker myself,' he says, 'but none of these durned rich ones, so if you can stand for once to eat a meal not exceedin' five dollars in price, why, come along!' says he. "Then we went into a high-toned vittel dispensary, I bet you. Jeemima! but she was gold and white paint to knock your eye out. I'll never tell you what I et, but it was good food. And to wind up, come little cups of coffee and big seegars. It was beautiful. Then says my man, 'Well, this is a day in a hundred. I can't tell you how good it makes me feel in this city of sin to come across a square man like yourself--what do you say to a bottle of wine?' |
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