It made me feel kid uv good ter hear Slats hand it back like dat, so I sez: “Cut it out, Sis, an' lissen ter er wise crack. Will yer be nice if I pay yer fine?”
“Will I?” she sez. “Just you put up de dough, an' den watch me do de minuet out uv dat door.” So I went ter de bloke behind de desk, an' sez: “Say, have yer got Slat's name in yer album?”
“Nothin' doin',” sez he.
“Well, hev yer got Kitty McClinchy dere?”
“Sure,” he sez. “Ten dollars.”
So I digs down in me kick an' cums up wid er ten spot.
“De best uv friends must part,” sez I, ez I let go uv it, “an' it don't grow in er mug's pocket like grass in de country. Cum on Slats,” I hollered, an' we heads fer Chinatown. “Uptown may be all rite, but it costs coin ter git wid dat swell push. Are yer goin' ter be good, now?”
She didn't say nuttin' but chucked her arms around me neck, an' dat wuz wort' $10 enny day.
Dat nite we buried de hatchet in four cans ov Barney's Best.