“Well, madam,” he said, “it’ll help a good deal if he’ll unhitch the third buttonhole of his vest from the top button of his trousers.”
§ 286 Better than Believing in Santa Claus
Two typical wayfarers of the Bowery, penniless and tattered and with their feet half out of their wrecked shoes, were limping through the crooked streets of Chinatown. One of them found a small vial containing cocaine which, presumably, had been dropped by a dope fiend.
The tramps had heard many times of the stimulating and invigorating effects of this drug. Also, from association with habitués they knew the common method of taking it. They decided to experiment.
The finder uncorked the vial, poured a quantity of the white crystals into the palm of his hand and sniffed the stuff up his nostrils. His companion finished the bottle.
The effect was magical. They straightened their bent figures, drew their rags about them and stepped out briskly. Presently one of them spoke. There was a bloom in his cheeks and his eyes glistened:
“I’ve about decided,” he said, “to make a few investments. I’m going to buy all the diamond mines in South Africa and after I’ve done that I’m going to buy all the gold mines in Australia.”
His transformed partner made answer:
“Hold on,” he said, “I don’t know that I’m prepared to sell ’em!”