By Robert J. Burdette
Strangers visiting the beautiful city of Burlington have not failed to notice that one of the handsomest young men they meet is very bald, and they fall into the usual error of attributing this premature baldness to dissipation. But such is not the case. This young man, one of the most exemplary Bible-class scholars in the city, went to a Baptist sociable out on West Hill one night about two years ago. He escorted three charming girls, with angelic countenances and human appetites, out to the refreshment table, let them eat all they wanted, and then found he had left his pocketbook at home, and a deaf man that he had never seen before at the cashier’s desk. The young man, with his face aflame, bent down and said softly,
“I am ashamed to say I have no change with—”
“Hey?” shouted the cashier.
“I regret to say,” the young man repeated on a little louder key, “that I have unfortunately come away without any change to—”
“Change two?” chirped the old man. “Oh, yes, I can change five if you want it.”
“No,” the young man explained in a terrible, penetrating whisper, for half-a-dozen people were crowding up behind him, impatient to pay their bills and get away, “I don’t want any change, because—”
“Oh, don’t want no change?” the deaf man cried, gleefully. “’Bleeged to ye, ’bleeged to ye. ’Tain’t often we get such generous donations. Pass over your bill.”
“No, no,” the young man explained, “I have no funds—”
“Oh, yes, plenty of fun,” the deaf man replied, growing tired of the conversation and noticing the long line of people waiting with money in their hands, “but I haven’t got time to talk about it now. Settle and move on.”