Professor Vango by Gelett Burgess — Read

"Yer was mixed up in a narsty piece o' business," said Coffee John, after the Freshman had concluded his tale, "an' it strikes me as yer gort wot yer bloomin' well desarved. I don't rightly know w'ether yer expect us to larff or to cry, but I'm inclined to fyver a grin w'erever possible, as 'elpin' the appetite an' thereby bringin' in tryde. So I move we accept the kid's apology for bein' farnd in me shop, an' perceed with the festivities o' the evenink. I see our friend 'ere with the long finger-nails is itchin' to enliven the debyte, an' I'm afryde if we don't let 'im 'ave 'is sye art, 'e'll bloomin' well bust with it."

He looked the thin, black-eyed stranger over calmly and judicially. "You'll be one as lives by 'is wits, an' yet more from the lack of 'em in other people, especially femyles," the proprietor declared. "Yer one o' ten tharsand in this tarn as picks up easy money, if so be they's no questions arsked. But if I ain't mistook, yer've come a cropper, an' yer ain't much used to sweatin' for yer salary. But that don't explyne w'y yer 'ad to tumble into this plyce like the devil was drivin' yer, an' put darn a swig o' 'ot coffee to drarn yer conscience, like. Clay Street wa'n't afire, nor yet in no dynger o' bein' flooded, so I'm switched if I twig yer gyme!"