“If I was as big as him,” said one, “I’d fire all the peelers.”
“Wouldn’t that be dandy!” cried another.
He won their hearts still further by something he did in midsummer. Blunkers had asked him to attend what brilliant posters throughout that part of the city announced as:
HO FOR THE SEA-SHORE!
SIXTH ANNUAL
CLAM BAKE
OF THE
PATRICK N. BLUNKERS’S ASSOCIATION.
When Peter asked, he found that it was to consist of a barge party (tickets fifty cents) to a bit of sand not far away from the city, with music, clams, bathing and dancing included in the price of the ticket, and unlimited beer for those who could afford that beverage.
“The beer just pays for it,” Blunkers explained. “I don’t give um whisky cause some —— cusses don’t drink like as dey orter.” Then catching a look in Peter’s face, he laughed rather shamefacedly. “I forgits,” he explained. “Yer see I’m so da—” he checked himself—“I swears widout knowin’ it.”