“By George, Ace, I ain’t got a cent. Lend me a dollar.”
“Oh, no,” said Judge Matthews, seriously; “you can’t play philanthropist at my expense. Not much.”
“Well, my man,” said Mr. Leland, “I guess you’ll have to call at my hotel for your money.”
“No, sir,” said the man, “you give me my money or you give me back my balloons.”
“But don’t you see I can do neither? Come to the Leland House and ask for Mr. Leland, and I will pay you.”
“No, sir,” persisted the man, “you pay me my money or give me back my balloons. I haf seen dat hotel trick before.”
“Come, Ace,” said Mr. Leland, from the depth of his troubled soul, “give me a dollar.”
“Not a cent,” said the Judge. “I wouldn’t trust you with a dime.”
“See,” said the man, “your own friend no will trust you. You give me my money or I will call de policeman.”
Just then there happened along an old beggar woman who had lived upon the bounty of the good people of Springfield for many a year. She stopped and heard enough of the conversation to know what it was about.