I'm Thirty-nine, and you're
Forty, and don't you forget it. All right, boss," he called back to
the manager; "I'll take care of him! This way," he said to Lemuel.
"The reason why I said I'd never been here before," he explained on
the way down, "was because you got to say something, when he asks
you. Most of 'em says last fall or last year, but I say never,
because it's just as true, and he seems to like it better. We're
going down to the dressing-room now, and then we're going to take a
bath. Do you know why?"
"No," said Lemuel.
"Because we can't help it. It's the doctor's orders. He thinks it's
the best thing you can do, just before you go to bed."
The basement was brightly lighted with gas everywhere, and a savoury
odour of onion-flavoured broth diffused itself through the whole
place.
"Smell it? You might think that was supper, but it ain't. It's
breakfast. You got a bath and a night's rest as well as the quarter
of a cord of wood between you and that stew. Hungry?"
"Not very," said Lemuel faintly.
"Because if you say you are they'll give you all the bread and water
you can hold, now. But I ruther wait."
"I guess I don't want anything to-night," said Lemuel, shrinking
from the act of beggary.
"Well, I guess you won't lose anything in the long run," said the
other. "You'll make it up at breakfast.
Pages:
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105