"Buy some more," says Buck.
We investigated our pockets and found we had just enough money to settle our hotel bill in the morning and pay our passage over the ferry.
"Plenty of the 'Shake-the-Shakes Chill Cure' labels," says I, after looking.
"What more do you want?" says Buck. "Slap 'em on. The chill season is just opening up in the Hackensack low grounds. What's hair, anyway, if you have to shake it off?"
We pasted on the Chill Cure labels about half an hour and Buck says:
"Making an honest livin's better than that Wall Street, anyhow; ain't it, Pick?"
"You bet," says I.