"Shorty," says he, "how are you on charity?"
"I'm a cinch," says I. "Every panhandler north of Madison Square knows he can work me for a beer check any time he can run me down."
"Then you'll be glad to exercise your talents in aid of a worthy cause," says he.
"It don't follow," says I. "The deservin' poor I passes up. There's too much done for 'em, as it is. It's the unworthy kind that wins my coin. They enjoys it more and has a harder time gettin' it."
"Your logic is good, Shorty," says he, "and I think I agree with your sentiments. But this is a case where charity is only an excuse. The ladies out at Rockywold are getting up an affair for the benefit of something or other, no one seems to know just what, and they've put you down for a little bag punching and club swinging."
"Then wire 'em to scratch the entry," says I. "I don't make any orchestra circle plays that I can dodge, and when it comes to fightin' the leather before a bunch of peacock millinery I renigs every time. I'll put on Swifty Joe as a sub., if you've got to have some one."
Pinckney shook his head at that. "No," says he, "I'll tell Sadie she must leave you off the program."
"Hold on," says I. "Was it Sadie billed me for this stunt?"
He said it was.
"Then I'm on the job," says I. "Oh, you can grin your ears off, I don't care."