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Bangs, John Kendrick, 1862-1922

"The Water Ghost and Others"

"I fail to comprehend your
meaning. Perhaps you express yourself badly."
"I wish you'd express yourself for Zulu-land," I retorted, hotly. "What I
mean is, you believe in the _similia similibus_ business, but you
prescribe large doses. I don't believe troubles like mine can be cured on
your plan. A man can't get rid of his stock by adding to it."
[Illustration]
"Ah, I see. You think I have added to your troubles?"
"I don't think so," I answered, with a fond glance at my ruined tie. "I
know so."
"Well, wait until I have laid my plan before you, and see if you won't
change your mind," said my visitor, significantly.
"All right," I said. "Proceed. Only hurry. I go to bed early, as a rule,
and it's getting quite early now."
"It's only one o'clock," said the visitor, ignoring the sarcasm. "But I
will hasten, as I've several other calls to make before breakfast."
"Are you a milkman?" I asked.
"You are flippant," he replied. "But, Hiram," he added, "I have come here
to aid you in spite of your unworthiness.


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