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"Yessum," said Inky Mike, whose name happens to be Moe Sapperstein. "What are you doing to that unfortunate person?" "J-j-just a little j-j-joke," replied the other in what was doubtless intended for a light-hearted and care-free tone. "Let him down." Inky Mike hesitated. "At once!" snapped the Duchess and stamped her foot. "Yessum," said Inky Mike meekly.
"Is this another of your ghastly jokes?" he turned to Brooks who stood by as master of ceremonies, not in the least disturbed by the presence of the stranger. "That's just what it is," stuttered Brooks, "a j-j-joke, a p-p-p-pract'cal joke. No harm meant, only Stuyvy's hard to wake up. Never did like gettin' up in the mornin'. Wake 'im up boys! Wake 'im up! Time to get dressed for the wedding!"
"Hallo! you seem to have found your tongue all of a sudden!" "F-faix, then, it's b-bekaise of yer not houndin' me on. I c-c-can't stand bein' hurried, ye s-see. B-besides, I was havin' me little j-j-joke, an' I scarcely sp-splutter at all whin I'm j-j-jokin'." "Where did you come from?" demanded the chief, sharply. "From P-Pine Tree D-Diggin's." "Oh, indeed? When did you leave the camp?"
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