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Updated: June 25, 2025
Any man that vas not like you, you old flint-hearted fish." He had sought the final words with painful care, and he delivered the collection triumphantly at Bainbridge. The engineer laughed. The man in the chair now lifted himself higher, while Reifsnyder began an elaborate ceremony of anointing and combing his hair.
Two belathered heads reared from the chairs. The electric shine in the street caused an effect like water to them who looked through the glass from the yellow glamour of Reifsnyder's shop. In fact, the people without resembled the inhabitants of a great aquarium that here had a square pane in it. Presently into this frame swam the graceful form of Henry Johnson. "Chee!" said Reifsnyder.
"Didn't I give him those lavender trousers?" he roared. And young Griscom, who had remained attentively at the window, said: "Yes, I guess that was Henry. It looked like him." "Oh, vell," said Reifsnyder, returning to his business, "if you think so! Oh, vell!" He implied that he was submitting for the sake of amiability.
He and his assistant with one accord threw their obligations to the winds, and leaving their lathered victims helpless, advanced to the window. "Ain't he a taisy?" said Reifsnyder, marvelling. But the man in the first chair, with a grievance in his mind, had found a weapon. "Why, that's only Henry Johnson, you blamed idiots! Come on now, Reif, and shave me. What do you think I am a mummy?"
As Reifsnyder waved his razor down the cheek of a man in the chair, he turned often to cool the impatience of the others with pleasant talk, which they did not particularly heed. "Oh, he should have let him die," said Bainbridge, a railway engineer, finally replying to one of the barber's orations. "Shut up, Reif, and go on with your business!"
Finally the man in the second chair, mumbling from a mouth made timid by adjacent lather, said: "That was Henry Johnson all right. Why, he always dresses like that when he wants to make a front! He's the biggest dude in town anybody knows that." "Chinger!" said Reifsnyder. Henry was not at all oblivious of the wake of wondering ejaculation that streamed out behind him.
Now free to join comfortably in the talk, the man said: "They say he is the most terrible thing in the world. Young Johnnie Bernard that drives the grocery wagon saw him up at Alek Williams's shanty, and he says he couldn't eat anything for two days." "Chee!" said Reifsnyder. "Well, what makes him so terrible?" asked another.
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