On one of these days I found a thin, cadaverous, long-legged, long-armed
young man behind the bar. He had yellow-white hair that rested on his
head like a window-mop, whitey blue eyes, and a pasty complexion. When
he craned his neck in his anxiety to get my order right, I felt that his
giraffe throat reached down to his waist-line and that all of it would
come out of his collar if I didn't make up my mind at once "what it
should be."
"Who's he, Muffles?" I asked.
"Dat's me new bar-keep. I've chucked me job."
"What's his name?"
"Bowser."
"Where did you get him?"
"Blew in here one night las' month, purty nigh froze--out of a job and
hungry. De Missus got soft on him--she's dat kind, ye know. Yer oughter
seen him eat! Well, I guess! Been in a littingrapher's shop--ye kin tell
by his fingers. Say, Bowser, show de gentleman yer fingers."
Bowser held them up as quickly as if the order had come down the barrel
of a Winchester.
"And ye oughter see him draw. Gee! if I could draw like him I wouldn't
do nothin' else.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342