Why!—I'll have to thrash you, Bub.

Just you scatter, or I'll help you with my toe, sir!

Johnny. [Quickly pulling out a pistol from the table-drawer, and pointing it at Jimmy B.]

Do you see this little toy?

There's six pills for you, my boy,

Unless you drop that stuff at once and—go, sir!

Jimmy B. [To Jenny, appealingly.]

Look here, Sis, this isn't square!

Jenny. [Protesting.]

Mr. Algernon St. Clair!