THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN
office of a harum-scarum young lawyer who had more empty bottles behind his door than he had ever had briefs on his desk.
"Well, the great Gemini!" exclaimed Major Perdue, "how do you manage to stand that sort of thing?"
I shrugged my shoulders and laughed, and was about to begin anew a very old tirade against caves and halls of thunder, when the Major raised a warning hand. Some one was saying
"He hangs out right on ol' Major Perdue's lot. He's got a wife there."
"By jing!" exclaimed another voice; "is that so? Well, I don't wanter git mixed up wi' the Major. He may be wobbly on his legs, but I don't wanter be the one to run up ag'in 'im."
The Major pursed up his lips and looked at the ceiling, his attitude being one of rapt attention.
"Shucks!" cried another; "by the time the ol' cock gits his bellyful of dram, thunder wouldn't roust 'im."
A shrewd, foxy, almost sinister expression came over the Major's rosy face as he glanced at me. His left hand went to his goatee, an invariable signal of deep feeling, such as anger, grief, or serious trouble. Another voice broke in here, a voice that we both
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