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Updated: June 24, 2025
My name's Emerson." "Confound old Kirk with his fish stories," said Vuyning to himself, with silent glee as he went through his pockets for a card. "It's pronounced 'Vining," he said, as he tossed it over to the other. "And I'll be as frank with you. I'm just a kind of a loafer, I guess, living on my daddy's money.
Wall Street speculators, driving home in their carriages, love to point out these men to their visiting friends and tell them of this rather famous lounging-place of the "crooks." On Wall Street the speculators never use the file blades of their knives. Vuyning was delighted when one of this company stepped forth and addressed him as he was passing.
"A hundred dollars," said Emerson. "Twenty too much," said Vuyning. "Six months old in cut, one inch too long, and half an inch too much lapel. Your hat is plainly dated one year ago, although there's only a sixteenth of an inch lacking in the brim to tell the story. That English poke in your collar is too short by the distance between Troy and London.
You know dad has a ranch in Colorado. What's the good of staying here? Jumping jonquils! but it's great out there. I'm going to start next Tuesday." "No, you won't," said Miss Allison. "What?" said Vuyning. "Not alone," said Miss Allison, dropping a tear upon her salad. "What do you think?" "Betty!" exclaimed Vuyning, "what do you mean? "I'll go too," said Miss Allison, forcibly.
I was near turnin' ye down for bein' one of thim foreign counts!" Vuyning left his club, cursing it softly, without any particular anger. From ten in the morning until eleven it had bored him immeasurably.
He wore a suit of dark cheviot that looked to have been draped upon him by an ancient Grecian tailor who was a few thousand years ahead of the styles. "Mr. Vuyning," said he, with the clear, ingenuous smile of the successful "crook," "it's up to me to go the limit for you any time I can do so. You're the real thing; and if I can ever return the favor, you bet your life I'll do it."
I don't mind telling you that I was not touring among the Antipodes when the burglar-proof safe of the Farmers' National Bank of Butterville, Ia., flew open some moonless nights ago to the tune of $16,000." "Aren't you afraid," asked Vuyning, "that I'll call a cop and hand you over?" "You tell me," said Emerson, coolly, "why I didn't keep them."
And I'll bet you a gold mine I've got $50 worth more gent's furnishings on my frame than you have. That's what I wanted to see you about. I can't do the trick. Take a look at me. What's wrong?" "Stand up," said Vuyning. Emerson arose, and slowly revolved. "You've been 'outfitted," declared the clubman. "Some Broadway window-dresser has misused you. That's an expensive suit, though, Emerson."
"Thanks," gratefully "I spent over half an hour at it before I " "Thereby," interrupted Vuyning, "completing your resemblance to a dummy in a Broadway store window." "Yours truly," said Emerson, sitting down again. "It's bully of you to put me wise. I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn't just put my finger on it. I guess it comes by nature to know how to wear clothes."
"Oh, I suppose," said Vuyning, with a laugh, "that my ancestors picked up the knack while they were peddling clothes from house to house a couple of hundred years ago. I'm told they did that." "And mine," said Emerson, cheerfully, "were making their visits at night, I guess, and didn't have a chance to catch on to the correct styles."
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