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Fortunately summer dress-goods cost little, and there were but few of the girls who had not compassed a new six-cent muslin, or at least "done up" an old one into crisp freshness. The men were equally disguised by soap, water, and shaving, with coats instead of shirt-sleeves, but these could not simulate the fine gentleman so readily as could their daughters the fine lady.
That afternoon he walked north to the branch library to turn in his book on which a six-cent fine impended. With the yellow card in his hand, he went over to the fiction section of the open shelves. No more Hentys, no more Optics. He was in love, and love stories he must have. Silvey, Perry Alford, and Red sauntered up just before supper to find out how the land lay.
In the name of all that is generous, leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair! a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare endu rance can no fur ther go! PUNCH in the presence of the passenjare!" My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then he said impressively: "Mark, you do not say anything. You do not offer me any hope.
For answer J. Augustus Redell drew from his pocket that morning's paper and pointed to the headline of a front-page story. Cappy adjusted his spectacles and read: Bakers Announce Six-Cent Loaf! "Hum-m-m!" said Cappy. "You bet! And it's a smaller loaf, by the way. Doesn't that argue that there is something doing in wheat, when the price of bread goes to six cents for a half portion?"
A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, Punch in the presence of the passenjare! Punch, brothers! punch with care! Punch in the presence of the passenjare! I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a little while ago, and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession of me.
"A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, punch in the presence of the passenjare." Rev. Mr. stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparently, and looked long at me; then he said: "Mark, there is something about this that I cannot understand.
'Clack-clack clack, a blue trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for an eight-cent fare; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, clack clack-clack, for a six-cent fare, and so on, and so on, and so on punch in the presence of the passenjare! Sleep? Not a single wink! I was almost a lunatic when I got to Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral.
I was already far away with my pitiless, heartbreaking "blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in the presence of the passenjare." I do not know what occurred during the other nine miles. However, all of a sudden Mr. laid his hand on my shoulder and shouted: "Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don't sleep all day!
"'Well, I did see that, said he, 'but I thought it was an error of the press, or that the owner couldn't spell. "'Oh! sais I, 'don't take me for one of your Dutch boors, I beg of you. I can spell, but you can't read, that's all. You remind me, sais I, 'of a feller in Slickville when the six-cent letter stamps came in fashion.
It is a very trying occupation, yet some complain that we parsons must have our summer vacation on full pay and nurse our precious health at swell hotels, while common people feed on potatoes and plant and grow six-cent cotton for the benefit of the contribution plate.
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