“Gee! That must be the guy who makes that drugstore drink—Boolzac.”
The clerk swung out, but missed the boy's head by a hair. The boy stood off, grinning.
“Well, you ast me!”
“All right. If anybody else comes in tell 'em we're full up. I'll be a wreck to-morrow without my usual beauty sleep.” The clerk dropped into his chair again and elevated his feet to the radiator.
“Want me t' git a pillow for yuh?”
“No back talk!”—drowsily.
“Oh! boy, but I got one on you!”
“What?”
“This Boolzac guy didn't have no baggage, and yuh give 'im the key without little ol' three-per in advance.”
“No grip?”