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Page 60 text:
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THE JOURNAL Really! I exclaimed. Yes, continued Gag, I've got a bungalow resigned by Miller, ex- ecuted by Mansfield, furnished by L. Nearing, the inferior decorator, with indecent lighting by Taylor, and openwork plumbing by Glynn. I suppose you have a bath? I inquired. Oh, no, laughed Gag, I live there only two months a year. My eye observed a sign Rubber Collars Retreadedl Shoes Oiled with Squeakless Oil!!! I entered the shop, only to find C. McGowan engaged in teaching shoes not to stick out their tongues. I wished him success and went on to Mary Kelliher's Hash House. Hamburg, cup of coffee, I ordered. Bull, chew it. Bossy black in the face, shouted the sunny-haired youth behind the counter, none other than Roger VVitherell. Attracted by the draft, I turned only to find Perra inhaling soup. Good soup, he said. Sounds good, added Maura O'Neil, the waitress. Making a hasty exit ahead of Mary's cash register, I entered the Pay- more Hotel. Sign here, said Needham to a lady ahead of me. No, sir, replied Miss McCaffrey, I'm a business woman, and sign nothing I haven't read over. A little boy, all brass buttons, Bill Swift it looked like, showed her to the elevator. Not wishing to take any chances, I walked up the stairs. jo Parlow, in blue gingham, on hands and knees was operating with a mop and a cake of soap. Do you really believe ignorance is bliss? she inquired, pointing to a. sign, Please Do Not Use Stairs, at the foot of the landing. I don't know, I replied, You seem to be quite happy. I reached my room two jumps ahead of the floor mop. My, but it was cold up there. I went to the phone and called the janitor. Who is it? 'Tis Conway. I want some heat up here. Go die, he replied. I hung up, not wishing to hear any more indecent language. As there was a fireplace in the room, I walked out into the hall in search of something to burn. Under some red buckets on a shelf was a sign, For Fire Purposes Only, by order of the Masterson, McMahon, McNamara Co. The very thing. Taking them in the room, I started a fire. I was now ready for bed. 58
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Page 59 text:
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THE JOURNAL having stood on her feet all day, was greatly fatigued. Heavens! exclaimed Miss McKenney, how foolish to stand on your own feet! Burke, the conductor, came up. Fare, said he. Yes, pretty good day. I began to cough. That's right, Menice, the doorman answered, Cough it up. just then the car stopped, and all eyes were turned to Roseltha Sherman, the belle of the town, who daddled down the aisle. My good man, she said, as we approached her stop, which end of the car shall I get out at? Either, the car stops at both ends, broke in Carroll the newsy. Wait 'til I get my clothes on! VVe all turned in wonder toward the door, and in walked Miss Fitz- gibbons with a basket of laundry. Change at the four corners, said Burke to Gladys Eaton, who carried a stenographer's satchel. I'll take my change now, she replied, and dont be so fresh. The conductor and motorman having conferred together, I threw myself out of their arms into the street. The ambulance coming to rest directly over my body, I was left by Burns, the driver, and Coe, the attend- ant, as a false alarm, for no one was to be found. However, Dill, the Aromata Cheese salesman, picked me up and carried me to Dr. Martin's hospital where, under the care of Martha Copeland and Helen Devereaux, combined with the administration of several bottles of Hutchins' Aqua Pura, I was turned out next day by the janitor, joe Tetlow. But my health was not restored. In front of the place, I asked Ripley, the hard beat cop, to direct me to the nearest drug store. Passing down the street, I saw Carr and Chandler in white-wing uniforms cleaning up everything possible. ln- side the drug store--one of the Woodward chain-I asked M. Caswell at the fountain for some of her nose rouge. She looked searchingly, and then whispered to her assistant, F. Bowman, who, in a furtive manner, handed me a glass of root beer. Dick! whispered Mil. Swallowing glass and all, I turned. Sure enough, not a tee but Dickerman the great engineer, who invented the square ball-bearing. Going out, I met Gagliardi. VVl1ere are you living now? Out in one of the superbs in the outshirtsf' 57
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Page 61 text:
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THE JOURNAL I turned to extinguish the handy light, but could not find the switch. 'Twas an E-Z Light manufactured by the Hathaway, Hollindale Co. Finally, in despair, I put it in the bureau drawer and shut it. just before climbing in, I looked down to the street. I was about a mile up. Suppose I should fall! Luckily my eyes fell upon a sign on the wall Safe in the Ofhcef' Down I went and explained to Gardner, the night clerk, that I had come down to be sure of safety. Only fools are sure of anything, he said. Sure of that? asked Mildred Howe who had just come in from a tea-party. I certainly am, replied Gus, much to her amusement. Next morning I was presented with my bill. I'm sorry- I began. You don't leave here till it's paid, yelled jim Goldie, the manager. Thank you, I'll make it my permanent home. VVhen I came to, I found myself on the operating table under the hands of Dr. Gregg. As I was coming out of the ether, I heard him tell the nurse, Bea Lapham, to pull the shade, as the patient was coming out and the Ere across the street might lead me to believe the operation un- successful. I left abruptly, pawned my gold tooth, and hastened to the railway station. A ticket for Ware, I said to Miss Golub behind the wicket. Where? Ware, I replied. Finally, with fire in my eye, I wrote it out. One dollar. I Ninety-eight cents I'll give you. No cut rates. All right, I don't argue, I'll walk. Soon I heard a whistle. VVhistle all you want, I won't come back, I thought. Happily it was a double track, and I was on the right one, which was left. A'bit farther on I met Spencer Eaton. I'm a detective, he said. What kind of dog is that? I inquired. Oh that's my gum-slot poodle, he gets the scent. I'm looking for Grant, the President of this railroad. How'll you find him out here? I queried. Don't you see I am on his track? The boy certainly is clever. Stopping at a house by the track, I begged a bite. I've nothing at all, answered B. Leonard, I'm baking biscuits. I'll be back in half an hour, said I, ducking just in time to escape 3 blow. 59
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