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Updated: June 6, 2025
Some of us fall and weep over our bruises, and some of us some of us get there. He, he, he." "Flummers, have they raised your salary yet?" some one asked. "Oh, no, and that's why I am disgusted with the newspaper profession. The country cries out, 'Who is the man? There is a deep silence. The country cries again, 'Does any one know this man? And then papa speaks. But what does he get?
But I must gather up the flapping ends of my discourse. I will begin again." "Are you going to repeat that dose of bloody rot?" Mortimer asked. "Jim, I pity you. I pity any man that can't see a point when it's held under his nose." "Or smell one when it's held under his eye," someone suggested. "You fellows are pretty gay," said Flummers. "You must have drawn your princely stipends this week."
Flummers haranguing a party of men who sat about the round table. He stood that he might have room in which to scallop his gestures, and he had reached a climax just as Henry joined the circle. He waited until all interruptions had ceased and then continued: "Milwaukee was asleep, and I was sent up there to arouse it. But I shook it too hard; I hadn't correctly measured my own strength.
Oh, yes, people will wonder what you have in the hollow of your hand, and sooner or later, they will find that you are carrying three shells and a pea. Get out, Kittymunks. I'm afraid of you too tough for me." Flummers waved Whittlesy into oblivion, and continued: "Old Witherspoon gave up his check for twenty thousand, and there the reward stops, for Mrs.
Flummers looked at Whittlesy and scalloped the forerunner of a withering speech; but, thoughtful enough suddenly to remember that at this solemn time his words and his eyes belonged not to one man, but to the entire company, he withdrew his gaze from Whittlesy, and in his broad look included every one present. "He made a monkey of me.
In the afternoon of the day that followed the publication of the confession Flummers minced his way into the Press Club. He wore a suit of new clothes, and although the weather was warm, he carried a silk-faced overcoat. Before any one took notice of him he put his coat and hat on the piano, and then, with a gesture, he exclaimed: "Wow!" "Why, here's Kittymunks! Helloa, Kit!" one man shouted.
Remember that I hold you in the hollow of my hand." "Let us have the story," said Henry. "But is the laborer worthy of his hire is there anything in it?" "Yes, ring the bell." "That's the stuff." "Flummers," some one remarked, a few moments later, "I don't think that I ever saw you drunk." Flummers tapped his forehead and replied: "The brain predominates the jag.
In this life it is well to have reserve forces stationed here and there. Who's got a car-ticket? I've got to go over on the West Side. What, are you all broke? What sort of a poverty-stricken gang have I struck? Well, I've given you as much of my valuable time as I can spare." "I suppose you are getting used to this town," said Mortimer, when Flummers was gone.
Say, John" to Richmond "why don't you buy something?" "What? Oh, you gulp, you succession of swallows, you human sink-hole! Flummers, I have bought you whisky enough to overflow the Mississippi." "Oh, ho, ho, but not to-day, John. Past whisky is a scandal; in present whisky there lies a virtue.
I used to work for the Pinkertons, and I know all those guys, and there's not one of the whole gang that gives a snap for charity. There's a mystery about it somewhere." "Probably you can throw some light on it as you did on the Kittymunks affair," Whittlesy suggested. Flummers gave him a scallop. "Papa still holds you in the hollow of his hand. Here you are; see?"
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