I turned it inside out lookin' fer er fisical culture stake, but dere wuzn't enny meat on it, an' it wuzn't Friday, neither.
Den I pipes off sum uv de blokes wot wuz bizzy feed-in' dere faces. Gully gee, dey wuz shovelin' in corn an' stuff wot looked like de sawdust wot cums out uv er doll, an' drinkin' milk. On de level, half uv 'em looked like dey wuz croakin' wid do ol' con.
“Ha,” sez I ter de bundle, “ain't ver got nuttin' ter eat in dis joint?”
“Sure,” sez she, “look on de bill uv fair.”
“Dat's fer horses,” sez I. “Gimme sumthin' wot er bloke like me kin eat. Ain't yer got no chop suey, er no spuds?”
“Nix,” sez she.
Well, wot d'yer t'ink uv dat. A feedin' crib widout no spuds. Puttin' in er lunch dere wuz like fightin' er coon in er dark alley at nite—you've got ter shut yer eyes an' take er chance. So I sez to der gal: “Ha, sis, I got two bits in me clothes; bring me enny old t'ing.
“Two bits?” she sez. “Wot's dat?”
“Ah, er quarter,” sez I, an' I flashed me coin so she could see I wuz on de level. So she sets her feet agoin' an' went down de line ter de back where dey dig up dat funny chuck.
Dere I sat, like er mug wot had got in de wrong pew an' wuzn't wise ter wot wuz coinin' off de next move an' t'inkin' dat everybody wuz pipin' me off. But de most uv 'em wuz too busy puttin' away de dried hay an' mattress stuffin' ter pay much attention ter yours truly. While I wuz waitin' I got a good chance ter look eround, an' I saw er cupple uv signs which said dat de bloke wot owned de joint wouldn't make good on a guy's lid or ulster if it wuz copped, unless it wuz locked up in de safe, or sumthin' like dat, an' after I read dem I wuz glad I kept mine on, an' I wuz wishin' I had er string ter it, den it would be er cinch.