“I’ve only had it four years, and gave twenty dollars for it. What shall I do? what shall I do?”
“Cut off the other tail and make a jacket of it. Come to-morrow with sandwiches in the other pocket and the dog will do it for you.”
“Hire an Arab to hunt up the tail.”
“Cut off the dog’s tail and sew it on instead, look any worse than it did before.” "Tell the Consul about it, and have him demand satisfaction of the government.”
These and other irreverent remarks were let off in the pauses of our laughter, and I am bound to say that the “Doubter” didn’t enjoy any part of the joke. He was unhappy all day, and more unhappy when he visited next morning the clothing shop of an Israelite, in whom there was guile enough to set up a whole Tammany Ring, and have ten per cent, to spare. While he tried on a coat, and was dubious about the fit, the polite Jew declared: “Ah, mein Gott, zat coat, he fit you like ze skin on a dog; like, shoost like, ze skin on one big dog!”
And the “Doubter” again waxed wroth, and took in high dudgeon this apparently personal indignity.
When he paid his bill at the hotel he was again angry, for among the items was the following:
“Extra—two sandwiches, two francs.”
He vowed he would not pay, but we all insisted that the charge was just, and he finally paid, and was cross for a week afterward. But he never again took ham sandwiches for a lunch in Constantinople.