“Hurt!” Cappy shrilled. “Hurt? Well, I should say so! Skinner, my boy, if you ever lose your punch you'll know just how much I'm suffering. As Live Wire Luiz would say: 'I die weeth dee-light!'”
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Three months later Cappy Ricks sat alone in his office, his feet on his desk, his old head bowed on his breast. Apparently he was having a gentle snooze. Suddenly he sat up with the suddenness of a jack-in-the-box and stepped to the door leading to Mr. Skinner's office.
“Skinner, my dear boy,” he said, “do you remember that stinking Humboldt spruce I sawed off on Live Wire Luiz one day when you were out to lunch?”
Mr. Skinner nodded.
“They claimed a rebate of six dollars a thousand on it,” he declared; “and we declined to allow the claim. Well, I've decided to allow it, Skinner. Tell Hankins to draw a check for the rebate in full and bring it in to me. Send in a stenographer.”
Cappy clawed his whiskers as the stenographer took her seat at his desk.
“Ahem! Hum! Harumph-h-h!” he began. “Take letter.”