But, when I looked in the glass, I wasn’t satisfied, ’cause I wasn’t changed enough. “What’ll I do?” I ast the barber.
“Wash,” he says.
Wal, I’ll be dog-goned!–the disguise was complete!
Just then, in come Hank Shackleton. “Hank,” I says, “what do y’ think?–that fat Chicago millionaire I was a-tellin’ you of is here!”
“You don’t say so!” he answers, beginnin’ to grin. “That shore is luck!”
“How so?” ast the barber.
“Why,” I says, “just think what we can do to him!”
Hank just lent back and haw-hawed like he’d bust his buttons off. “Aw, don’t make me laugh,” he says; “my lip’s cracked!”
They ain’t no use talkin’–we fixed up a proposition that was a daisy.
“And it’ll work like yeast,” says Shackleton. “A-course, whatever I make outen it, Cupid, you git a draw-down on–yas, you do.”