“What did he send you to buy with it?”
“Beer.”
“Beer!” The good lady gasped at the thought.
“Yes’m.”
“And how did you lose it?”
“Matchin’ pennies.”
Before she had sufficiently recovered to demand the return of her dime the boy was gone.
He Knew the Place.
The man with his coat collar turned up and his hat pulled down over his eyes, who was slouching alone in the shadow of the buildings, suddenly beckoned to the man on the other side of the street.
“Here’s a graft, Bill,” he said when the other had crossed over.