But why be downhearted? I
haven't drunk up all my Christmas presents yet. As a last hope I can
load upon them and get some kind ambulance to drag me up to the dippy
department of some nice hospital. Honest, I am getting so thin that
before long I won't be able to understudy a drop of water in Mr. Hawk's
Hippodrome.
"A nice gentleman presented himself to me on Broadway the other evening
and, after passing the compliments of the season, invited me out to
inhale a young table d'hote. The way I sprang to his side made a leap
for life seem like sinful idleness. And where do you think he took me? I
ask as a friend, Where do you think he took me? To one of those joints
where you get everything from soup to nuts, including a scuttle full of
red ink for thirty-five scudi. I was going to balk and rear in the
harness when he started to lead me up the steps of the foundry, but as I
always maintained discretion is the better part of valor, I'm two-bits
ahead anyway you play it. So I climb into the nosebag without a peep.
Yet--would you believe it?--when that wop came to cash in he shook the
mothballs out of a roll of bills that looked like nine miles' worth of
hall carpet. I had been acting very reserved heretofore, but when he
made this flash he commenced to look like a very dear friend of mine who
had been very kind to me in moments of adversity. I apprised him of the
fact, and the dog had the temerity to pin his pocket shut with a safety
pin right before my eyes.
Pages:
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28