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Updated: June 1, 2025
His eyes caught Doc Madison's from the veranda and held an instant to read a message and interpret the almost imperceptible, but significant, movement of Madison's head. "Gee!" said the Flopper to himself, as his eyes swept the faces around him again. "Dis is a nice game de Doc's planted on me he wants me to do de wiggle out dere fer de rubes!
"Flopper, you go in there and stay with the Patriarch for awhile," she ordered curtly. "I'm going down on the beach to yell." "Yell?" inquired the Flopper, blinking helplessly. "I'm going outside to yell yell. You know what 'yell' means, don't you?" she snapped. "Swipe me!" observed the Flopper, gazing at her anxiously. "Skirts is all de same youse never know wot dey'll do next.
"I'd like to see the finish," said the lingerie man still grinning. "Well?" inquired the soap man still grinning. "What do you say?" "You bet!" said the man with eight trunks full of daintiness in the baggage car ahead. "It's Needley for ours you're on!" The Flopper was an artist and he was in his glory.
"Give us the whole lay, Doc," urged Pale Face Harry. "And give it to us quick." "Me mouth's waterin'," observed the Flopper, licking his lips again. Helena lighted another cigarette, and swung herself back to her perch on the head of the couch. Doc Madison surveyed the three with mingled admiration and delight. "The world is ours!" he murmured softly.
"An' outer a private car, too wouldn't dat bump you! An' say, wait till you see de Doc t'row up his dukes when he listens to me handin' out me sterilized English!" The brakeman and a kindly-hearted fellow passenger helped the Flopper into the train and thereafter for an hour or more, in a first class coach, the Flopper held undisputed sway.
Joel leaned his elbow on the mantel, and looked down at the easy-chair and its occupant. "Perhaps you'd rather be lying there," said Bingley, pointing to the floor, "instead, with a flopper under your ear, like the nasty one you gave me, Pepper." "I am so sorry for that, too," cried Joel, in a fresh burst of remorse.
But as the minutes passed and the mass moved on and stopped as the Flopper paused to rest, and moved on and stopped and moved on again, gradually this changed, very gradually, not abruptly, but as though the scoffings and the laughter were dying away almost imperceptibly in the distance.
Halfway down was a garishly lighted establishment. When near this the Flopper began to hurry desperately, as from further along the street again his ear caught the peculiar raucous note of an automobile horn accompanied by the rumbling approach of a heavy motor vehicle.
The American public is always interested in a novelty, and on occasions is not to be gainsaid the American public, as represented by the patrons of the Bar Harbor express, was interested at the moment in the Flopper, and they passed the conductor from hand to hand it was the only way he could have got through the car and deposited him outside in the vestibule to tell his troubles to the buffer-plate.
The Flopper licked his lips, and renewed the appeal he had been making for nearly five minutes. "Ain't no one goin' to drive me out to de Patriarch's?" "Horses are all busy in the fields," said a voice, uncompromisingly. "Yes," said the Flopper, with bitter irony, "drivin' each other around, while youse are here starin' at me an' won't help."
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