He pulled a handful of change from his pocket and began to call for glass after glass of beer. The lady behind the bar was beaming with pleasure at the success of her experiment. Ordinarily she had made quite a row, if her husband came home smelling of beer—but now, when the profits were falling into her own hands, she made no complaint.
It is not known how many glasses she sold her husband but there was quite a little pile of nickels and dimes on the shelf, and two or three quarters.
Robert was leaning rather heavily against the bar, now and then raising his foot and making a dab for the rod that was not there, but he was saying very little. His wife ought to have known better, but the profits rendered her indiscreet.
Presently Robert remarked in a very loud tone:
“Gozzamighty, se’ ’m up all roun’ barkeep’n puzzom on slate ’m busted.”
His wife looked at him in surprise.
“Indeed, I will not, Robert,” she said. “You must pay me for everything you have. I thought you understood that.”
Robert looked in the mirror as straight as he could, counted his reflections, and then yelled loud enough to be heard a block away:
“Gosh dang it, gi’ us six glasses beer and put ’em on ice, Susie, old girl, or I’ll clean out your joint, ’n bus’ up business. Whoopee!”
“Robert!” said his wife, in a tone implying a growing suspicion, “you’ve been drinking!”