The Ramrodders - A Novel by Holman (Holman Francis) Day
page 51 of 400 (12%)
page 51 of 400 (12%)
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"And here's the nature of Aunt Charette's institution." He pointed to an
open cupboard in which there were many bottles. "Oh! your local liquor agency," hazarded the chairman. "No, sir! Aunt Charette's own dispensary for the ills of the mind and fatigues of the body, and run according to my own notions. It beats your bar and white jackets, Luke, or that solemn farce of cheap liquors and robber prices of the State agency system. You come in here, if you are not a drunkard or a minor or a pauper--and Aunt Charette knows 'em all--and you go to the cupboard and get your drink, or you go out there in the store-room and get your bottle, and hand the change to Aunt Charette and walk away. No other rumshop tolerated in the section, and pocket peddlers run out of town on a rail! No treating, no foolishness, no fraud. Pays her fine twice a year without going to court, the same as you. And no extras!" He smiled at the chairman significantly. "No extras, eh!" mused Mr. Presson, enviously. "You must have a different crowd of county officers than we've got down our way." "Perhaps so," admitted the old man, and then he allowed himself a bit of a boast; "but the secret is, you see, this little institution is something I've taken under my own wing." It was an ill-starred moment for that honest boast. There came a thumping of feet in the hall. The man who burst in was flushed and sweating and excited. "I'm glad you're here, Squire," he panted. "You're just in the nick o' time. They're going to jump on the old lady." |
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