“Now, Charley,” he said, cheerfully, “your bat’s over, ain’t it, old man?”
“Say, you been darn’ decent to me, old man. Lord! how you’ve been sweeping up! How was I—was I pretty soused?”
“Honest, you were fierce. You will sober up, now, won’t you?”
“Well, it’s no wonder I had a classy hang-over, Wrenn. I was at the Amusieren Rathskeller till four this morning, and then I had a couple of nips before breakfast, and then I didn’t have any breakfast. But sa-a-a-ay, man, I sure did have some fiesta last night. There was a little peroxide blonde that—”
“Now you look here, Carpenter; you listen to me. You’re sober now. Have you tried to find another job?”
“Yes, I did. But I got down in the mouth. Didn’t feel like I had a friend left.”
“Well, you h—”
“But I guess I have now, old Wrennski.”
“Look here, Charley, you know I don’t want to pull off no Charity Society stunt or talk like I was a preacher. But I like you so darn much I want to see you sober up and get another job. Honestly I do, Charley. Are you broke?”
“Prett’ nearly. Only got about ten dollars to my name…. I will take a brace, old man. I know you ain’t no preacher. Course if you came around with any ‘holierthan-thou’ stunt I’d have to go right out and get soused on general principles…. Yuh—I’ll try to get a job.”