"Why do you ask, Hock?"
"Well, he's the one! 'Greatest on earth,' they say. Gets thousands of
dollars every night he fiddles. He's staying at the Lake View Hotel,
and--"
"Ventnor _here_!" fairly screamed Archie. "The _great_ Ventnor! Oh,
Hock, is he going to play?"
"Yes, he is!" said Hock, smacking his lips together with glee that
something had at last taken Archie out of himself and made him forget
his frailty, if only for a moment, "Yes, siree," continued Hock. "He's
going to play three times. Heard him say so myself when they asked him
on the beach this morning. He speaks the tanglest-legged English you
ever heard. He said, 'Me, I holiday; me, I not blay when I holiday.'
Then a batch of ladies tried to explain things to him, and when his
Russian-Italian-French brain got around things, he up with his hands and
ran them through his long grey hair and wagged his head, and said, 'Me,
I understand! Me, I don't blay money when I holiday, but me, I blay for
unfortunate beeples. I blay dree times.' Oh, it was funny, Arch!"
"Funny!" said Archie.
Pages:
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240