Trapes, wriggling her elbow joints. "How much did you
make yesterday--come?"
"Fifty cents."
"Fifty cents!" she almost screamed, "is that all?"
"No--pardon me! There were three pimply youths on Forty-second
Street--they brought it up to seventy-five."
"Only seventy-five cents? But you sold out your stock; Tony told me you
did."
"Oh, yes, trade was very brisk yesterday."
"And you sold everything for seventy-five cents?"
"Not exactly, Mrs. Trapes. You see, the majority of customers on my beat
are very--er--small, and their pecuniary capabilities necessarily
somewhat--shall we say restricted? Consequently, I have adopted
the--er--deferred payment system."
"Land sakes!" said Mrs. Trapes, staring, "d'ye mean ter say--"
"That my method of business is strictly--credit."
"Now look-a-here, Mr. Geoffrey, I'm talkin' serious an' don't want none
o' your jokes or jollying."
"Solemn as an owl, Mrs. Trapes!"
"Well, then, how d' you suppose you can keep a wife and children, maybe,
by selling peanuts that way or any way?"
"Oh, when I marry I shall probably turn my--attention to--er--other
things, Mrs.
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