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Updated: May 12, 2025
And back to Cypher's went we three, and, finding customers scarce, we joined hands and did an Indian dance with Milly in the centre. This, I say, happened three years ago. And about that time a little luck descended upon us three, and we were enabled to buy costlier and less wholesome food than Cypher's. Our paths separated, and I saw Kraft no more and Judkins seldom.
"One day," concluded Kraft, solemnly, "there will come to Cypher's for a plate of beans a millionaire lumberman from Wisconsin, and he will marry Milly." "Never!" exclaimed Judkins and I, in horror. "A lumberman," repeated Kraft, hoarsely. "And a millionaire lumberman!" I sighed, despairingly. "From Wisconsin!" groaned Judkins. We agreed that the awful fate seemed to menace her.
She was a grand example of Kraft's theory of the artistic adjustment of nature. She belonged, largely, to waiting, as Minerva did to the art of scrapping, or Venus to the science of serious flirtation. Pedestalled and in bronze she might have stood with the noblest of her heroic sisters as "Liver-and-Bacon Enlivening the World." She belonged to Cypher's.
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