"Indeed, I'm so sorry for you. And you say you're going to try to collect it eh?" says Harris. "Well, I am so sorry for you."
The collector couldn't get a cent. Every time he called after that, Harris threw him downstairs.
Why, he got so after a while, that as soon as Harris appeared at the door, he would rush to the stairs and throw himself down.
Harris had him trained.
The tailor hit upon a brilliant scheme.
He hired a woman to collect the bill.
Harris was in a dilemma. He couldn't throw a woman downstairs.
He told me about it, and asked my advice, but I had none to give.
The next time I met him he shook me by the hand and said:
"I got around that woman-collector business all right. She never went back to the bloomin' tailor after the second time she called."