Bonesy Billings cast a look of disgust in the direction of the rather “fresh” young man in the rear. Then he cleared his throat for a speech, with a loud and impressive “Hem!”
“Feller citizens—an’ ladies!” he began. “It has been decided that we has all been soaked good an’ hard by the mugs what is up in that house on the hill—the same as is knowed by all on us as the Milmarsh mansion.”
“Good stuff!” interrupted the irrepressible man at the back of the gathering.
“I’ll come over an’ paste you in the jaw if you don’t shut up!” menaced Billings. Then, resuming his oratorical tone, he continued: “We have tried to get satisfaction at the office in N’ York, an’ we’ve been told ev’rything will come out all right, though we can see it won’t. The fellers at the office has beat it for parts unknown, an’ what have we?”
“Swamp!” cried the regular interrupter at the back.
“That’s right,” agreed Billings. “It is jest swamp, an’ sech swamp you couldn’t dry it out in a million years, nor fill it in, nuther. As for buildin’ houses there, it couldn’t be did. Yet we’ve paid out our good money for this here swamp land, an’ now the guys that beat us out of our coin is laughin’ at us. What are we goin’ to do about it?”
“Kill ’em!” shouted the widow.
“With hatpins,” added the other woman.
“We ain’t goin’ to take chances on the ’lectric chair—unless they make us,” returned Billings. “But we are goin’ right into the house an’ demand our money back. If we don’t git it, then we will——”