A minute afterwards the door slowly opened, and the tug-boy came in limping, his old hat pushed back on his head, and one leg of his wet trousers rolled up to his knee, showing about four inches of black, ashy skin, which he leaned over and rubbed as he walked. His wet face wore a scowl, half pain, half anger. “Mist’ Miller, kin I use you’ telephone?” he asked, surlily. (The company had the privilege of using it by courtesy.)
“Yes; there ’tis.”
He limped up, and still rubbing his leg with one hand, took the ’phone off the hook with the other and put it to his ear.
“Hello, central—hello! Please gimme fo’ hund’ an’ sebenty-three on three sixt’-fo’—fo’ hund’ an’ sebent’-three on three sixt’-fo’.
“Hello! Suh? Yas, suh; fo’ hund’ an’ sebent’-three on three sixt’-fo’. Street-car stables on three sixt’-fo’. Hello! Hello! Hello! Dat you, streetcar stables? Hello! Yas. Who dat? Oh! Dat you, Mist’ Mellerdin? Yas, suh; yes, suh; Jim; Jim; dis Jim. G-i-m, Jim. Yas, suh; whar drive Ole Sue, in Mist’ Polk Miller’ drug-sto’—. Yas, suh. ‘Matter’?—Ole Sue—she done tu’n fool; done gone ’stracted. I can’t do nuttin’ ’tall wid her. She ain’ got no sense. She oon pull a poun’. Suh? Yas, suh. Nor, suh. Yas, suh. Nor, suh; I done try ev’ything. I done beg her, done cuss her, done whup her mos’ to death. She ain’ got no reasonment. She oon do nuttin’. She done haul off, an’ leetle mo’ knock my brains out; she done kick me right ’pon meh laig—’pon my right laig.” (He stooped over and rubbed it again at the reflection.) “Done bark it all up. Suh? Yas, suh. Tell nine o’clock? Yas, suh; reckon so; ’ll try it leetle longer. Yas, suh; yas, suh. Good-night—good-bye!”
He hung the ’phone back on the hook, stooped and rolled down the leg of his breeches. “Thankee, Mist’ Miller! Good-night.”
He walked to the door, and opened it. As he passed slowly out, without turning his head, he said, as if to himself, but to be heard by us, “I wish I had a hundred an’ twenty-five dollars. I boun’ I’d buy dat durned ole mule, an’ cut her dog-goned th’oat.”
