"I don't know. Ow! jabbed right into my gum! But I can tell you
this: If you think I'm going to stick up on this ladder all morning
while you carry on about some fool old geranium that you can just
as well fuss with when I'm gone, why, you're mighty much mistaken."
"Well, you needn't take my head off. I feel awful about that
geranium."
"Well, why don't you look where you're going? Is this right?"
"Yes, I told you. I wish now I'd done it myself. I can't ask you
to do a thing about the house but there's a row raised right away."
People that don't want to go to the trouble of tacking up these
alphabet flags on the edge of the veranda eaves (it takes fourteen
of them to spell "WELCOME FIREMEN"), say they think a handsome flag
-- a really handsome one, not one of these twenty-five centers -
is as pretty and rich looking a decoration as a body can put up.
Tents are raised in the vacant lots along Center Street, and
counters knocked together for the sale of ice-cold lemonade, lemo,
lemo, lemo, made in the shade, with a spade, by an old maid, lemo,
lemo. Here y' are now, gents, gitch nice cool drink, on'y five a
glass. There is even the hook for the ice-cream candy man to throw
the taffy over when he pulls it. I like to watch him. It makes me
dribble at the mouth to think about it.
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