"No!"
"That's right. That darned little Jew netted nearly a thousand dollars."
CHAPTER VI
"Let me introduce you," said the Prodigal, "to my friend the 'Pote.'"
"Glad to meet you," said the Pote cheerfully, extending a damp hand. "Just been having a dishwashing bee. Excuse my dishybeel."
He wore a pale-blue undershirt, white flannel trousers girt round the waist with a red silk handkerchief, very gaudy moccasins, and a rakish Panama hat with a band of chocolate and gold.
"Take a seat, won't you?" Through his gold-rimmed spectacles his eyes shone benevolently as he indicated an easy-looking chair. I took it. It promptly collapsed under me.
"Ah, excuse me," he said; "you're not onto the combination of that chair. I'll fix it."
He performed some operation on it which made it less unstable, and I sat down gingerly.