"What's the matter with you, brats?"
"Boo-hoo--we--ain't got no place to sleep."
"The idea a bawlin' about that. Come along with me, I'll give ye a place
to sleep. Say, hev ye got any shiners?"
"Boo-hoo--no--sir!"
"Well, come along with me. I'm rich. Ye can't hear 'em rattle, but all
is not gold that rattles."
"Monsieur, we--boo-hoo--we asked that barber man over there to let us
get warm in his store and--and--he wouldn't do--it--boo-hoo!"
"Well, now, don't bawl about that. He don't know no better. He's an
Englishman. But I'll jes' take a note of that insult. [Takes paper from
his pocket and writes.]--Get even with Barber at 63 Rue Saint Antoine.
Too mean to occupy space here below. There now! that'll fix 'em. Hurry
along here now or my hotel will be closed.--Say, brats, you stay here a
minute. There is a poor little girl what's cold and she ain't got
nothin' around her. You stay here till I gits back.
"There, little girl, take my scarf and put around you. This kind of life
is alright fer boys but it's pretty tough on girls.
Pages:
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532