Then he got red in the face,
glared at Dodo, and grouched out a "beg pardon!"
"You betcher sweet!" she replied, patting the Pommery.
"Say, John! you know well enough I can't leave New York for more
than two or three days just at this time without having a good
excuse to give Alice," Bunch growled, while Skinski and the
Circassian lady put the knives to the chicken livers _en brochette_.
"How about me!" I snapped back. "I can't go out of town at all,
except in the day-time. I'll have to duck back to Ruraldene after
the show every evening or lose my card in the Happy Husbands'
Union. It's different with you, Bunch; you're not married yet."
"It isn't different at all," Bunch whipsawed me. "And you haven't
any business to expect me to hike over the country with this outfit
while you stay at home and read Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress."
"I won't read that at all," I countered; "I'll read nothing but the
ship news to see if you are stranded."
"Well, I won't do it!" snorted Bunch.
"You'll have to do it if you want to win out that wedding money," I
retorted. "Is this the way you thank me for what I've done for
you?"
"Done for me, nothing!" Bunch bit back. "I put up as much coin as
you did, and now you want me to do all the work!"
"Work!" I echoed; "what work is it to count money, eh, Skinski?"
"Counting money is a hot pastime, isn't it, Dodey?" he answered.
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