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My father would never let me marry a grocer's clerk. But I'll marry you to-night, Tommy, if you say so." Old Jacob Spraggins came home at 9:30 P. M., in his motor car. The make of it you will have to surmise sorrowfully; I am giving you unsubsidized fiction; had it been a street car I could have told you its voltage and the number of wheels it had.
"My name is Celia, if you please," said the whistler, dazzling him with a three-inch smile. That's all right. I'm Thomas McLeod. What part of the house do you work in?" "I'm the the second parlor maid." "Do you know the 'Falling Waters'?" "No," said Celia, "we don't know anybody. We got rich too quick that is, Mr. Spraggins did." "I'll make you acquainted," said Thomas McLeod.
Up till now that father had possessed what was left of his heart by the groom, Bob, who played the concertina, and his nurse "Da," who wore the violet dress on Sundays, and enjoyed the name of Spraggins in that private life lived at odd moments even by domestic servants.
"I'm no parlor maid. I've been fooling you. I'm Miss Spraggins Celia Spraggins. The newspapers say I'll be worth forty million dollars some day." Thomas pulled his cap down straight on his head for the first time since we have known him. "I suppose then," said he, "I suppose then you'll not be marrying me next week. But you can whistle." "No," said Celia, "I'll not be marrying you next week.
Separated by a double line, but still mighty close to the matter under the caption of "Oddities of the Day's News" in an evening paper, Jacob Spraggins read that one "Jasper Spargyous" had "donated $100,000 to the U. B. A. of G." A camel may have a stomach for each day in the week; but I dare not venture to accord him whiskers, for fear of the Great Displeasure at Washington; but if he have whiskers, surely not one of them will seem to have been inserted in the eye of a needle by that effort of that rich man to enter the K. of H. The right is reserved to reject any and all bids; signed, S. Peter, secretary and gatekeeper.
Up till now that father had possessed what was left of his heart by the groom, Bob, who played the concertina, and his nurse "Da," who wore the violet dress on Sundays, and enjoyed the name of Spraggins in that private life lived at odd moments even by domestic servants.
"I'll be around to-morrow at the same time with a bag of flour and the laundry soap." "All right," said Celia. "Annette's married cousin pays only $20 a month for a flat in the Bronx." Never for a moment did she count on the Spraggins money.
See you again, sir." At eleven Thomas delivered some bunches of parsley and lettuce at the Spraggins mansion. Thomas was only twenty-two; so, as he came back, he took out the handful of five-hundred-dollar bills and waved them carelessly. Annette took a pair of eyes as big as creamed onion to the cook. "I told you he was a count," she said, after relating. "He never would carry on with me."
It was just as the wagon dashed away that old Jacob Spraggins struck the sideboard with his fist and made the mysterious remark about ten thousand dollars that you perhaps remember. Which justifies the reflection that some stories, as well as life, and puppies thrown into wells, move around in circles. Painfully but briefly we must shed light on Jacob's words.
Are you some wiser now, uncle, or do you want to scrap wit' Mike O'Grady for de Santa Claus belt in dis district?" Clearly, that spot in the moral vineyard was preempted. So Caliph Spraggins menaced no more the people in the bazaars of the East Side.
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