H. Well, you’re about right there. You look more like bossies than anything else. If you ever lived in the country, as I should judge from your appearance you had, you will know what that means.
J. (advancing in a threatening manner, and brandishing a ruler). I say, stranger, quit that. None of your sarse, or I’ll break yer head.
H. (with dignity). Enough of this, young man. Put down that ruler. Now, tell me, have you given this man, Jenkins, any money?
J. Yes; two hundred and twenty-five dollars, and he’s took me into partnership.
H. When did you see him last?
J. He went out an hour ago.
H. You’ll never see him, I’m afraid, or your money either.
J. (terrified). What’s that, stranger?
H. In short, he’s swindled you. Jenkins is not his real name. He is a clerk of mine, of whom, for some time, I have had suspicions. He took advantage of a three days’ absence of mine in New York, to put an advertisement in the paper, which has taken you in. He’s got your money, and that will be the last we shall see of him, unless the police pick him up.
J. (crying). He’s carried off all my money. Boo! hoo! and I aint earnin’ two thousand dollars a year after all. Aunt Betsey’s money gone. Boo! hoo! What’ll marm say?