Billy. You’d think so, if you saw the undertaker’s bill.
Mrs. S. How did it happen?
Billy. He put some water in his whisky. Never had done it before, broke up his constitution. De jury said dat he died ob internal drounding.
Mrs. S. How awful!
Billy. Youse kin gamble high dat it was. Allus take youse whisky straight. Den youse know little Edwardo Pancake, his father works in a laundry, blowing dirt off of collars?
Mrs. S. Know him well.
Billy. He’s in de hospital. All three of his arms broke off, backbone knocked clear up into his mouth, and he can’t chew.
Mrs. S. You don’t say, Billy?
Billy. Yes, I do. I wouldn’t tell a lie for less than a dollar. Poor Edwardo’s all broke up. They’ve got him gummed together with mucilage, and it makes him awful stuck up, won’t notice anybody. But he’s in a bad way. His little sister came in and called him a liar yesterday, and he only had animation enough to kick one of her teeth out.