Mr. Gubb trembled with emotion as he paid, for it meant that Syrilla was still losing flesh and that Mr. Dorgan must surely cancel his contract with her soon. The telegram read:—
Happy days! Still shrinking. Have lost one hundred and forty-five pounds since last wire. Contract sure to be canceled as soon as Dorgan gets back from hurried trip to Siam. Weather very hot. Can feel myself shrink. Fond thoughts to my Gubby.
The very next day the colored butler brought Mr. Gubb another telegram.
“Fifty dollars, please, sah,” he said.
“What!” cried Mr. Gubb.
“Yes, sah,” said the negro. “That’s the amount Mistah Meddahbrook done say.”
Mr. Gubb could hardly believe it, but he wrote his check for the fifty dollars and then read the telegram. It ran:—
Excelsior! Have lost two hundred pounds since last wire. Now weigh only four hundred pounds. Every one guys me when I am ballyhooed as Fat Lady. Affection to Gubby.
Mr. Gubb was greatly pleased by this, but when, the next day, the colored butler again appeared and asked for fifty dollars Mr. Gubb was worried. The telegram this time read:—