“You made some twenty cents out of me. Your turn is coming, my uncle!” I said.
I sold him a box of Lillian Russell cigars for three dollars. The real price was two.
Ha, ha, ha!
12th—I invited my precious Ada to my store to dine à la Japonaise.
One Jap restaurant catered to it.
“Irrashaimashi! Condescend to enter!” I showered my wooden-clogged greeting over Ada.
From “The Klondyke,” my neighbouring saloon, a nigger song was flapping in.
“If you ain’t got no money, you needn’t come round.”
Happy Ada San!
She was about to join in it, when I brought her into my great dining-room.