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... Adjustment--is saved!"
And back to Cypher's went we three, and, finding customers scarce, we
joined hands and did an Indian dance with Milly in the centre.
This, I say, happened three years ago. And about that time a little luck
descended upon us three, and we were enabled to buy costlier and less
wholesome food than Cypher's. Our paths separated, and I saw Kraft no
more home mortgage new and Judkins seldom.
But, as I said, I saw
us bank home mortgage a painting the other day that was sold for
$5,000. The title was "Boadicea," and the second mortgage information figure seemed to fill all
out-of-doors. But of all the picture's admirers who stood before it, I
believe I was the only one who longed for Boadicea to stalk from her
frame, bringing me corned-beef hash with poached egg.
I hurried away to see Kraft.
His satanic eyes were the same, his hair
was worse tangled, but his clothes had been made by a tailor.
"I didn't know," I said to him.
"We've bought a cottage in the Bronx with the money," said he. "Any
evening at 7."
"Then," said I, "when you led us against the lumberman--the--Klondiker
--it wasn't altogether on account of the Unerring Artistic Adjustment of
"Well, not altogether," said Kraft, with a grin.
MEMOIRS OF A YELLOW DOG
I don't suppose it will knock any of you people off your perch to read
a contribution from second mortgage information an animal. Mr.
Kipling and a good many others
have demonstrated the fact that animals can express themselves in
remunerative English, and no magazine goes to press nowadays without
an animal story in it, except the old-style monthlies that are still
running pictures of Bryan and the Mont Pelщe horror.
But you needn't look for any stuck-up literature in my
generation lead mortgage piece, such as
Bearoo, the bear, and Snakoo, the snake, and Tammanoo, the tiger, talk
in the jungle books. A yellow dog that's spent most of his life in a
cheap New York flat, sleeping in a corner on an old sateen underskirt
(the one she spilled port wine on at the Lady Longshoremen's banquet),
mustn't be expected to perform any tricks with the art of speech.
I was born a yellow pup; date, locality, pedigree and weight unknown.
The first thing I can recollect, an old woman had me in a basket
at Broadway and Twenty-third trying to sell me to a fat lady.
Old Mother Hubbard was boosting me to beat the band as a
home equity loan information genuine
terrier. The fat lady chased a V around among the samples of gros grain
flannelette in her shopping bag till she cornered it, and gave up. From
that moment I was a pet--a mamma's own wootsey squidlums.
reader, did you ever have a 200-pound woman breathing a flavour of
Camembert cheese and Peau d'Espagne pick you up and wallop her nose all
over you, remarking all the time in an Emma
debt consolidation information Eames tone of voice: "Oh,
oo's um oodlum, doodlum, generation lead mortgage woodlum, toodlum, bitsy-witsy skoodlums?"
From a pedigreed yellow pup I grew up to be an anonymous yellow cur
looking like a cross between an Angora cat and a box of lemons. But my
mistress never tumbled. She thought that the two primeval pups that Noah
chased into the ark were but a collateral branch
second mortgage information of my ancestors.
took two policemen to keep her from entering me at the Madison Square
Garden for the Siberian bloodhound prize.
I'll tell you about that flat. The house was the ordinary thing in New
York, paved with Parian marble in the entrance hall and cobblestones
above the first floor.
Our fiat was three--well, not flights--climbs up.
My mistress rented it unfurnished, and put in the regular things--1903
antique second mortgage information unholstered parlour set, oil chromo of geishas in a Harlem tea
house, rubber plant and husband.
second mortgage information there was a biped I felt sorry for. He was a little man with
sandy hair and whiskers a good deal like mine. SecondPart300-400 Henpecked?--well, toucans
and flamingoes and pelicans all had their bills in him. He wiped the
dishes and listened to my mistress tell about the cheap, ragged things
the lady with the squirrel-skin coat on the second floor hung out on her
line to dry. And every evening while she was getting supper she made him
take me out on the end of a string for a walk.
If men knew how women debt consolidation information pass the time when they are alone they'd never
marry. Laura Lean Jibbey, peanut brittle, a little almond cream on the
neck muscles, dishes unwashed, half an hour's talk with the iceman,
reading a package of old letters, a couple of pickles and two bottles of
malt extract, one hour peeking through a
second mortgage information hole in the window shade into
the flat across the
mortgage lead generation air-shaft--that's about all there is to it. Twenty
minutes before time for him to come home from work she straightens up
the house, fixes her rat so it won't show, and gets out a lot of sewing
for a ten-minute bluff.
I led a dog's life in that flat. 'Most all day I lay there in my corner
watching that fat woman kill time. I slept sometimes and had pipe dreams
about being out chasing cats into basements and growling at old ladies
with black mittens, as a dog was intended to do. Then she would pounce
upon me with a lot of that drivelling poodle palaver and kiss me on the
nose--but what could I do? A dog can't chew cloves.
I began to feel sorry for Hubby,
second mortgage information dog my cats if I didn't. We looked so
much alike that people noticed it when we went out; so we shook the
streets that Morgan's cab drives down, and took to climbing the piles
of last December's snow on the streets where cheap people live.
One evening when we new home mortgage were thus promenading, and I was trying to look like
equity home information loan St. Bernard, and the old man was trying to look like he wouldn't
have murdered the first organ-grinder he heard play SecondPart300-400 Mendelssohn's
wedding-march, I looked up at him and said, in my way:
"What are you looking so sour about, you oakum trimmed lobster? She
don't kiss you.
You don't have to sit on her lap and listen to talk
that would make the book of a musical comedy sound like the maxims of
Epictetus. You ought to be thankful you're not a dog. Brace up,
Benedick, and bid the blues begone."
The matrimonial mishap looked down at me with almost canine intelligence