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Updated: June 6, 2025
If you wish to keep friends, Mr. Flummers, you must do nothing which they could not forecast for you. The development of hitherto undiscovered traits, of an unsuspected and therefore an inconsistent strength, is a dash of cold water in the face of friendship. We are tied to you by a strong rope made of the strands of weaknesses, Mr. Flummers." "Oh, no."
Out in a boat with him last summer and caught a big bass," Richmond explained to the company, "and brought it up to the side of the boat and told Flummers to lift it in, not thinking at the time that he hadn't sense enough, and he grabbed hold of the line and let the fish get away. It made me sick, and I had a strong fight with myself to keep from drowning him." Flummers tapped his forehead.
He execrated humanity; and, moody and alone, the writer has seen him sitting on a bench on the lake front, turning with a sullen look and viewing with suppressed rage the architectural grandeur towering at his back." The article was written by Mr. Flummers. As the only reporter who could write from contact with the murderer, his sentences were bloated into strong significance.
He hesitated a moment, pressed his hand to his forehead, cut a fish-hook in the air and resumed his recital: "When I reached Omaha it was snowing. The heavens wore a feathery frown." "He didn't fill," said Whittlesy. Flummers condemned him with a look and continued: "The wind whetted itself to keenness on a bleak knob and came down to shave its unhappy customers."
"Why don't you ring it on your own account?" "Oh, no; you can't expect one man to do everything." "Go on with your story." "But is there anything in it?" "If you mean your story, I don't think there's much in it." "If you cut it short enough," said Mortimer, "we'll all contribute." "There spoke a disgruntled Englishman," Flummers exclaimed.
Papa knows that without adventure you make no discoveries. But, wow! he did make a monkey of me. Just think of a floor-walker making a monkey of papa!" He pressed his hand to his brow. "Why, a floor-walker has been my especial delicacy he has been my appetizer, my white-meat but, wow! this fellow was a gristle." "Mr. Flummers," said McGlenn, "we all love you." "Say, John, I owe you two dollars."
"Well, then, as one who has been compelled to love you, I will buy you a drink." "Good stuff. Say, Whit, touch the bell over there, will you?" "Touch it yourself, you lout!" With a profane avowal that he had never struck so lazy a party, Flummers rang the bell, and when the boy appeared, he called with hearty hospitality: "See what the gentlemen will have." "Would you like something more?"
If it weren't for me you geysers would dry up. Say, John, touch the bell." "Wait," said Henry. "Have something with me." "Ah, now you command the respect of the commonwealth!" Flummers cried. "By one heroic act you prove that your life is not a failure. These fellows round here make me tired. Boy, bring me a little whisky. What are you fellows going to take?
He examined me carefully, and when I asked him what he thought, he replied, 'Mr. Flummers, you can't afford to drink." "And did you tell him that you could afford it that it didn't cost you anything?" "Oh, ho, ho, no! Say, send out and get a bottle. What are you fellows playing there? Ten cents ante, all jack pots? It's a robbers' game."
When he caught sight of the boy coming with the tray, a peculiar light, such as painters give the face of Hope, illumined his countenance, and clasping his hands, he unctuously greeted himself. "Mr. Flummers," said McGlenn, "we all love you." "Oh, no." "Yes; it is disreputable, but we love you. It was a long time before I discovered your beauties.
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