What put that into your head?"
The rotund superintendent of the elevator fanned himself lazily
with his straw hat.
"If I was fifteen years younger and fifty pounds lighter," said
he, "I'd be sore too. But what's the use of a fat old slob like me
getting peeved because Miss Alix Crown don't happen to notice me?
Oh, we're great friends and all that, mind you, and she thinks a
lot of me,--as manager of her grain elevator. Same as she thinks
a lot of Jim Bagley, her superintendent,--and Ed Stevens, her
chauffeur, and so on. Now, as for you, it's different. You're from
New York and it goes against the grain to be overlooked, you might
say, by a girl from Indiana. Oh, I know what you New Yorkers think
of Indiana,--and all that therein is, as the Scriptures would say.
You think that nothing but boobs and corn-fed squaws come from
Indiana, but if you hang around long enough you'll find you're
mistaken. This state is full of girls like Alix Crown,--bright,
smart, good-looking girls that have been a hell of a ways farther
east than New York. Of course, there are boobs like me and Doc
Simpson and Tintype Hatch who get up to Chicago once every three
or four years and have to sew our return trip tickets inside our
belly-bands so's we can be sure of getting back home after Chicago
gets through admiring us, but now since prohibition has come in
I don't know but what we're as bright and clever as anybody else.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96