It was on account of my roping Abraham in, Jennie, that I had to cause you that terrible crying spell at the restaurant. But you will sure forgive me when you come to realize that it is not every afternoon that a fellow comes across a hundred-dollar wad on the floor of Madison Square Garden waiting for some bloke to pick her up.
While Abe and I were watching the poor devils spinning around the track, I slyly pumped out that he is the only son and hope of Jonathan Myers, owner of the knitting-mill that put Myersville on the map. Having once been a hayseed myself, Jennie, I know what pulls strong with them. So, to get a line aboard Abe, I first gave him an hour of soft soap. “Yes, brother, I spent the summer of 1892 up in Squeedunk in your part of the state. It sure is a garden of Eden.... How did this year’s potato crop pan out?... And I myself know everything from A to Z about breaking in a colt. I was raised on a farm up in New Hampshire.”
After Abe showed he thought I am the best fellow ever and I had found him to be an easy mark, it was time to discuss money. “Money, brother! You have a little and you love it. If only a fellow has money, he can go everywhere and have everything. Wouldn’t you like me to show where you can take your money, AND IN THE SHAKE OF A LAMB’S TAIL MAKE MORE MONEY OUT OF IT?”
Abraham right away bit hard. So I dropped the subject for an hour. I didn’t want him to smell a |Blarney Triumphant.| rat. And my silence would all the more make him hanker after the magic place where one could see his dough swell five-fold at a sitting.
After the first hour of blarney, I asked Abe to let me show him some of the sights of the Tenderloin, which all red-blooded Reubs hanker to see. “I swan!” he exclaimed. “I never believed such charming and handsome ladies existed!” I next took him to the Waldorf to dine. Of course I did not let him pay out a cent. Only one red-blooded hayseed out of a hundred will, at the last, balk at sitting down at the card table, where I can get every penny back with interest at 10,000 per cent. We sharpwitted fellows have to take those chances, Jennie.
As we swilled such grub as Abe had never even smelled of, he rubbernecked at the wonderful frescoes and stared at the polished marble columns which made the great dining-room like a forest. “This place is like what I have dreamed heaven to be!” he broke out over and over again. He was so soft! “You are awful good, Mr. McDonald, to bring me to see all these heavenly things. I never believed there lived such an awful good fellow!” ... Hah hah hah, Jennie! He was clean daft!
But, Jennie, I would never humbug a friend that way. Specially you, because you and I are “best friends.” You see, Jennie, Abe Myers was a stranger with a big wad. I was loading him with favors and pulling the wool over his eyes because my plan was to wring him dry before I let him get out of my hands. Such tricks are what we smarter straight men of Fourteenth Street are for. We have to live off the greenhorns....
How They Milk Cows on Fourteenth Street.
Don’t, don’t begin to chew the rag, Jennie! My only sorrow is that I haven’t enough dough. Abe Myers’ old man has barrels full. Abe will not suffer more than a few hours on account of the eighty-odd bucks I wrung out of him.