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Updated: June 17, 2025
Excursion trains will be run from the Middle West to see this domestic journal. Visitors from Oshkosh will do it before going on to Grant's tomb. What exactly is your name?" Betty hesitated. Yes, perhaps it would be better. "Brown," she said. "Mine is Smith. The smiling child in the outer office is Pugsy Maloney, one of our most prominent citizens. Homely in appearance, perhaps, but one of us.
Beat it, you mutt," he observed with moody displeasure, accompanying the words with a gesture which conveyed its own meaning. The wop kid, plainly glad to get away, slipped down the stairs like a shadow. Pugsy shrugged his shoulders. "Boss," he said resignedly, "it's up to youse." John reflected. "It's all right," he said. "Of course, if the collector had been here, the kid wouldn't be.
"Can you give me any particulars?" he asked patiently. "You are well-meaning, but vague, Comrade Maloney. Who are in there?" "About 'steen of dem!" said Pugsy. "Mr. Asher," said Betty, "and Mr. Philpotts, and all the rest of them." She struggled for a moment, but, unable to resist the temptation, added, "I told you so." A faint smile appeared upon Smith's face.
She ain't a bad mutt," added the ardent swain. "I'm her steady." "Well, mind you send me a card for the wedding. And if two dollars would be a help " "Sure t'ing. T'anks, boss. You're all right." It had occurred to John that the less time Pugsy spent in the outer office during the next few days, the better.
The milk having been poured into the lid of a tobacco-tin, in lieu of a saucer, she suspended her operations and adjourned for refreshments. Billy, business being business, turned again to Luella Granville Waterman, but Pugsy, having no immediate duties on hand, concentrated himself on the cat. "Say!" he said. "Well?" "Dat kitty." "What about her?" "Pipe de leather collar she's wearing."
He did not know how nearly interested were his employers in any matter touching that gang which is known as the Three Points. Pugsy said: "Dere's trouble down where I live. Sure." He had then retired to his outer fastness, yielding further details jerkily and with the distrait air of one whose mind is elsewhere.
"Pugsy," said John, feeling in his pocket, and producing a roll of bills, "a dollar a word is our rate for contributions like that." John pushed back his chair slightly, stretched out his legs, and lighted a cigarette, watching Betty fondly through the smoke.
"While your shoe-leather's good," said John firmly. "This is no place for a minister's son. Take it from me." "I want to stop and pipe de fun," objected Master Maloney. "What fun?" "I guess you ain't here to play ball," surmised Pugsy shrewdly, eying the big stick. "Never mind why I'm here," said John. "Beat it. I'll tell you all about it to-morrow." Master Maloney prepared reluctantly to depart.
The wop kid inhabited a small room at the very top of a building half-way down the street. He was out when John and Pugsy arrived. It was not an abode of luxury, the tenement; they had to feel their way up the stairs in almost pitch darkness. Most of the doors were shut, but one on the second floor was ajar. Through the opening John had a glimpse of a number of women sitting on up-turned boxes.
"She had it pretty fierce," admitted Master Maloney, gazing dispassionately at the rescued animal, which had escaped from his clutch and taken up a strong position on an upper shelf of the bookcase. "Will you go out and get her some milk, Pugsy? She's probably starving. Here's a quarter. Will you keep the change?" "Sure thing," assented Master Maloney.
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