“Yes, you would!” says I. “Slap his life out? G’wan! If he handed you one jolt you wouldn’t stop runnin’ for a week. How big is this national debt you say he owes you! How much?”
“Five week!” says Pouly. “One dollar twenty-five.”
“Sufferin’ Shylocks! All of that? Well, neighbor,” says I to the strange gent, “has he stated it correct?”
“Perfectly, sir, perfectly,” says the party of the second part. “I do not deny the indebtedness in the least. I was merely trying to explain to this agent of cleanliness that, having been unable to get to the bank this morning, I should be obliged to——”
“Why, of course,” says I. “And in that case allow me to stake you to the price of peace. Here you are, Pouly. Now go out in the sun and cool off.”
“My dear sir,” says the stranger, followin’ me into the front office, “permit me to——”
“Ah, never mind the resolutions!” says I, “It was worth riskin’ that much for the sake of stoppin’ the riot. Yes, I know you’ll pay it back. Let’s see, which is your floor?”
“Top, sir,” says he, “room 37.”
“Oh ho!” says I. “Then you’re the enterprise director, Tutwater?”
“And your very humble servant, sir,” says he, bringin’ his yellow Panama lid off with a full arm sweep, and throwin’ one leg graceful over the back of a chair.