No box dropped this time, though he worked the lever noisily.
"Out of order?" asked the cashier lady. "Here's two boxes of
matches. Guess you've earned them."
"Well, well, well, well!" sounded the voice of his friend, the
fat man, who stood at the desk paying his bill. "Pretty easy,
heh? Two boxes for one cent! Sting the restaurant." Cocking his
head, he carefully inserted a cent in the slot and clattered the
lever, turning to grin at Mr. Wrenn, who grinned back as the
machine failed to work.
"Let me try it," caroled Mr. Wrenn, and pounded the lever with
the enthusiasm of comradeship.
"Nothing doing, lady," crowed the fat man to the cashier.
"I guess _I_ draw two boxes, too, eh? And I'm in a cigar-store.
How's that for stinging your competitors, heh? Ho, ho, ho!"
The cashier handed him two boxes, with an embarrassed simper,
and the fat man clapped Mr. Wrenn's shoulder joyously.
"My turn!" shouted a young man in a fuzzy green hat and a
bright-brown suit, who had been watching with the sudden
friendship which unites a crowd brought together by an accident.
Pages:
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288