"
"No, Spider, I just happen to be born the son of a millionaire, that's
all."
"Think o' that, now!" nodded the Spider, "a millionaire now--how nice!
An' what do they call ye at home?"
"Geoffrey Ravenslee."
"How much?" exclaimed the Spider, falling back a step. "The guy as went
ten rounds with Dick Dunoon at th' 'National?' The guy as won th'
Auter-mobile Race? Th' guy as bought up Mulligan's--you?"
"Why, yes. By the way, I sat in the front row and watched you lick Larry
McKinnon at 'Frisco; I was afraid you were going to recognise me, once
or twice."
"Then, you--you _have_ got a yacht, th' big one as lays off Twenty-third
Street?"
"Also seven cars; that's why I want you for a chauffeur."
"Ho-ly Gee!" murmured the dazed Spider. "Well, say, you sure have got me
goin'! A millionaire! A peanut cart! A yacht! Well, say, I--I guess it's
time I got on me way. S' long!"
"No you don't, my Spider; you're coming home with me."
"What--me? Not much I ain't--no, sir! I ain't no giddy gink t' go dinin'
with millionaires in open-faced clo'es--not me!"
"But you're coming to have dinner with that same peanut man who learned
to respect you because you were a real, white man, Spider Connolly.
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