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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"Bunker Bean"

"Says she's got the--u-u-m-mm!--says to perfectly
quit tagging."
"Nothing can matter now," said the bereaved mother.
"He's talking himself," said the Demon. "Mercy he's got a new
voice ... sounds like another man. He says if we don't beat it out of here
by the next boat--he can imagine nothing of less--something or other I
can't hear--"
"--consequence," snapped Breede.
"Yes, that's it; and now he's laughing and telling her she's a perfectly
flapper."
"Oh, my poor child," murmured the mother.
"Puzzle t' me," said Breede. "I swear I can't make out just how many
kinds of a--"
"James!" said his wife sternly, and indicated the presence of several
interested foreigners.

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