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A Fool and His Money by George Barr McCutcheon
page 18 of 416 (04%)
"Your coat and trousers need pressing, sir," said he. "And where am
I to get the hot water for shaving, sir?"

"Frau Schmick will supply anything you need, Britton," said I, happy
on being able to give the information.

"It is not I as needs it, sir," said he, feeling of his smoothly shaven
chin.

"Come in and have a look about the place," said I, with a magnificent
sweep of my arm to counteract the feeling of utter insignificance I
was experiencing at the moment. I could see that my faithful retinue
held me in secret but polite disdain.

A day or two later the castle was swarming with workmen; the banging
of hammers, the rasp of saws, the spattering of mortar, the crashing
of stone and the fumes of charcoal crucibles extended to the remotest
recesses; the tower of Babel was being reconstructed in the language
of six or eight nations, and everybody was happy. I had no idea there
were so many tinsmiths in the world. Every artisan in the town across
the river seems to have felt it his duty to come over and help the men
from Linz in the enterprise. There were so many of them that they were
constantly getting in each other's way and quarrelling over matters
of jurisdiction with even more spirit than we might expect to encounter
among the labour unions at home.

Poopendyke, in great distress of mind, notified me on the fourth day
of rehabilitation that the cost of labour as well as living had gone
up appreciably since our installation. In fact it had doubled. He paid
all of my bills, so I suppose he knew what he was talking about.
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