"Now I think it would, prime."
"It might if these temperance folks were not so confounded thick about here, interfering with a man and preventing him making an honest living. If it wasn't for them, I should be clearing five or ten dollars a day, as easy as nothing."
"Confound them! I say," was Sandy's hearty response; while he clenched his fist, and ground his teeth together. "If I had a rope round the necks of every mother's son of 'em, wouldn't I serve 'em as old Julus Cesar did the Hottentots? Wouldn't I though! But what could they say or do about it, Mr. Graves."
"They'd pretty quick put it on to us in their temperance papers about the good device we had. They'd talk pretty fast about the serpent that seduced Eve, and all that. No, blast 'em! A snake won't do, Sandy."
"How will a monkey do?"
"A monkey might answer, if he was a little cuter than common. But we can't get one handy."
"Try a band of music."
"That would soon wear out; and then we should have to get up something else, and the people would suspect us of trying to gull them."
"Then what is to be done, Mr. Graves? We can never stand it at this rate."
"I'm sure I don't know." And the rum-seller leaned upon his bar, and looked quite sad and dejected.