Everywhere the hawkers dinned, and
everywhere was heard the plaintive squawk of the toy balloon.
But over all rose the nasal cadence of the Cheap John, reeking oratory
from his big wagon on the corner: "Walk up, walk up, walk up, ladies and
gents! Here we are! Here we are! Make hay while we gather the moss. Walk
up, one and all. Here I put this solid gold ring, sumptuous and golden,
eighteen carats, eighteen golden carats of the priceless mother of metals,
toiled fer on the wild Pacific slope, eighteen garnteed, I put this golden
ring, rich and golden, in the package with the hangkacheef, the elegant
and blue-ruled note-paper, self-writing pens, pencil and penholder. Who
takes the lot? Who takes it, ladies and gents?"
His tongue curled about his words; he seemed to love them. "Fer a quat-of-
a-dollah! Don't turn away, young man--you feller in the green necktie,
there. We all see the young lady on your arm is a-langrishing fer the
golden ring and the package. Faint heart never won fair wummin'. There you
are, sir, and you'll never regret it. Go--and be happy! Now, who's the
next man to git solid with his girl fer a quat-of-a-dollah? Life is a
mysterus and unviolable shadder, my friends; who kin read its orgeries?
To-day we are here--but to-morrow we may be in jail. Only a quat-of-a-
dollah! We are Seventh-Day Adventists, ladies and gents, a-givin' away our
belongings in the awful face of Michael, fer a quat-of-a-dollah.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119