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Updated: May 3, 2025
Since the fifteen days that her mother slept in the cemetery she had been taken charge of by a cousin who kept a billiard-saloon; and though she was not yet five years old, she had been put to work washing the beer-glasses. The Bayards found her charming, with great eyes as blue as the summer sun, and her thick blond tresses escaping from her ugly black bonnet.
The old man was calmer apparently, and was disposed to take the billiard-saloon matter less seriously, particularly as it was reported that the town selectmen were to hold a special meeting to consider the question of allowing Mr. Saunders to continue in business.
"So, Jamie, remember, and don't try to be a man before your time, and let your parents judge for you while you are young; and never believe in any soft white Pussy, with golden eyes, that comes and wants to tempt you to come down and play with her. If a big boy offers to teach you to smoke a cigar, that is Pussy. If a boy wants you to go into a billiard-saloon, that is Pussy.
Though they retain their positions, seldom abandoning the ground on which they were originally built, they change almost hourly their appearance and their uses, insomuch that the very solids of the city seem fluid, and even the stables are mutable, the horse-house of last week being an office for the sale of patents, or periodicals, or lottery-tickets, this week, with every probability of becoming an oyster-cellar, a billiard-saloon, a cigar-store, a barber's shop, a bar-room, or a faro-bank, next week.
The cafe was stiflingly hot; there was a large and noisy orchestra in the front part and a vast billiard-saloon in the back a place of shaded lights, clicking balls, and guttural exclamations. The heat of the place, the noise and the cries combined with the effect of his long journey in the fresh air to make him very drowsy.
She feared that her boy might be the worse for drink. She handed our hero a five-dollar bill. "I will use it prudently, madam," said he, "and account to you for all I do not use." "I trust you wholly," said the lady. "Now go as quickly as possible." Frank looked at the two addresses he had on the card. The billiard-saloon was on the east side of the city, in an unfashionable locality.
The bar-keeper's face cleared instantly, and he set about preparing the beverage required. "Won't you have something in it?" he asked. "No, sir," said Frank. "You boys are kept out pretty late," said the bar-keeper, socially. "Not every night," said Frank. "We take turns." Frank paid ten cents for his lemonade, and, passing into the billiard-saloon, sat down and watched a game.
"I will consider your advice, squire." But it was very clear that Tony Denton would not follow it. All at once Prince Duncan brightened up. He had a happy thought. Should it be discovered that the bonds used by Tony Denton belonged to the contents of the stolen box, might he not succeed in throwing the whole blame on the billiard-saloon keeper, and have him arrested as the thief?
His name was Charlie Mears; he was the only son of his mother who was a widow, and he lived in the north of London, coming into the City every day to work in a bank. He was twenty years old and suffered from aspirations. I met him in a public billiard-saloon where the marker called him by his given name, and he called the marker "Bulls-eyes."
Orham people had begun to say that John Baxter was "billiard-saloon crazy." And John Baxter was Captain Eri's friend, a friendship that had begun in school when the declaimer of Patrick Henry's "Liberty or Death" speech on Examination Day took a fancy to and refused to laugh at the little chap who tremblingly ventured to assert that he loved "little Pussy, her coat is so warm."
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