They are powerless against these aggressions. They can but
whisper their indignation.
Boogles eyed the sleeping manager.
"I struck it fine to-night, Jimmie!" he whispered. Jimmie mutely
questioned. "Got a whole case note. You know that guy over to the
newspaper office--the one that's such a tank drama--he had to send a
note up to a girl in a show that he couldn't be there."
"That tank drama? Sure, I know him. He kids me every time he's stewed."
"He kids me, too, something fierce; and he give me the case note."
"Them strong arms'll cop it on you when they get here," warned Jimmie.
"Took my collar off and hid her on the inside of it. Oh, I know tricks!"
"Chee! You're all to the Wall Street!"
"I got to look out for my stepmother, too. She'd crown me with a chair
if she thought I held out on her. Beans me about every day just for
nothing anyway."
"Don't you stand for it!"
"Yah! All right for you to talk. You're the lucky guy. You're an orphan.
S'pose you had a stepmother! I wish I was an orphan."
Jimmie swelled with the pride of orphanship.
"Yes; I'd hate to have any parents knocking me round," he said.
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