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"Jenifer always makes the portions according to what is to follow, and I don't believe he'll think you had better. Jenifer, can Mr. D'Alloi have some more stuffing?" "Yissah," said Jenifer, grinning the true darkey grin, "if de gentmun want't sell his ap'tite foh a mess ob potash." "Never mind," said Watts. "I'm not a dyspeptic, and so don't need potash.
"'What? he says. "'Bad fer the ap'tite, I says, 'an' I'm savin' mine fer that second breakfust o' your'n. "'What! he says, 'haven't you had anythin' to eat? An' then I told him what I ben tellin' you.
"He unpinned his coat and looked with longing eyes on the waiter as he pulled the caps off the berries; he never said a word, merely swallowing the secretion from his glands. When he had gulped his berries, I told the waiter to give him some more. "'Ever hungry, Major? said the hobo. 'Dat's kind a feather weight for my ap'tite. Let me have a ham sand'ich 'stead.
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