I sent her off again--I
kept on sending her off, and she kept on coming back, until I was
reg'lar wore to a thread."
"You seem to have picked up a bit since then," remarked the inspector
with a grin and a glance at the sufferer's very pronounced bow-window.
"Perhaps I have," the custodian replied haughtily. "Well, the next day
there was a ice-cream man--a reg'lar waster, _he_ was. Stuck outside as
if he was froze to the pavement. Kept giving the errand-boys tasters,
and when I tried to move him on, he told me not to obstruct his
business. Business, indeed! Well, there them boys stuck, one after the
other, wiping their tongues round the bottoms of them glasses, until I
was fit to bust with aggravation. And _he_ kept me going all day.
"Then, the day after that there was a barrel-organ, with a mangy-looking
monkey on it. He was the worst of all. Profane, too, _he_ was. Kept
mixing up sacred tunes and comic songs: 'Rock of Ages,' 'Bill Bailey,'
'Cujus Animal,' and 'Over the Garden Wall.' And when I tried to move him
on, that little blighter of a monkey made a run at my leg; and then the
man grinned and started playing, 'Wait till the Clouds roll by.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313