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Psmith, Journalist by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 12 of 257 (04%)
"Is he?" said Billy. "Nice sort of fellow to have in the family. So
you think that's his cat?"

"Sure. He's got twenty-t'ree of dem, and dey all has dose collars."

"Are you on speaking terms with the gentleman?"

"Huh?"

"Do you know Bat Jarvis to speak to?"

"Sure. He's me cousin."

"Well, tell him I've got the cat, and that if he wants it he'd
better come round to my place. You know where I live?"

"Sure."

"Fancy you being a cousin of Bat's, Pugsy. Why did you never tell
us? Are you going to join the gang some day?"

"Nope. Nothin' doin'. I'm goin' to be a cow-boy."

"Good for you. Well, you tell him when you see him. And now, my
lad, out you get, because if I'm interrupted any more I shan't get
through to-night."

"Sure," said Master Maloney, retiring.

"Oh, and Pugsy . . ."
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