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His name was Moses Jackling. Entering the cigar-shop, the Jew discovered that he had presented himself at a critical moment. A girl and a man were standing behind the counter. The girl looked like a maid-of-all-work: she was rubbing the tears out of her eyes with a big red fist. The man, smart in manner and shabby in dress, received the stranger with a peremptory eagerness to do business.
"By the bye, I think it must have been her mother that I saw that morning when little Felix dragged me to a cigar-shop in quest of an ornamental crab- a handsome, slatternly hag sort of woman, who might have been on the stage," said Lance. "Sells fishing-tackle, twine, all sorts," came from Adrian. "Have you been there?" asked his sister, rather disturbed. "Of course! All the fellows go!
Now and then he would halt, and shout something at the top of his voice. "What's the matter?" Sprague asked a man, who stood in the door of a cigar-shop, "is there a fire?" The man grinned. "That's the town-crier," said he. "Town-crier!" exclaimed Mr. Daddles, "I didn't know there were any of 'em left." "There aint," said the man, "except this one. He's the last one of 'em."
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