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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, February 12, 1912, Image 18

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1912-02-12/ed-1/seq-18/

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two waifs searchingly regarded
each other. The sandy-haired man
spoke first: "Go you a decillion
The grizzled man frowned. "A
suit of broadcloth will do."
Again the sandy man won, and
again the cards were dealt. "I bet
youN one of these lymo limeade
"Limousine cars," suggested
the other. "All right."
For the third time the sandy
haired man won . Then, tiring of
the farce, he settled back against
the scarred woodwork of his trav
eling home. "When does I get
my stakes?" he grinned.
The other arose briskly. "Fol
low me," he commanded, anil be
can to clamber over the side of
she car.
" Where youse oin' for 'em
end of the rainbow?"
"Come m," ordered the griz
zled man The sandy-haired vag
abond followed, half sulkily, half
Over the rusted switches and
purs they threaded their way at
great pace into the maze of
rooked streets and alleys that
urrounded the yards, and then
into the fashionable part of the
town. The winner was footsore
and demurred, but the other turn
ed abruptly into the great empor
ium of The Imperial Clothiers.j
"Fit this man up with the best
ready-made outfit in stock head
to foot," he ordered, and produc
ed a roll of bills.
'In a daze of delight the vaga
bond submitted to the ennobling
process. The tall silk hat that
adorned his uncombed, coal
grimed head looked sadly out of
place; the smart stick in his un
washed paw was incongruous;
but the tramp was immensely
pleased and asked no questions
when a few minutes later the
grizzled wanderer conducted him
up the torown stone steps of a
gorgeous palace home. Herehe
sat down to a groaning, shining
table of epicurean delights,
strange meats, mysterious, salads
rare wines, unknown desserts.
The tramp ate until his new
broadcloth stretched in protest,
after which he was conducted to
the front door. A splendid lim
ousine stood in front.
"Friend." said his host, "the
car is yours it is the last of the
wagers. I am a millionaire stu
dent of sociological affairs.
"So long, Old Bonds," shouted
the vagabond with alacrity. He
had ceased to wonder at the
strange fulfillment of the wagers,
and had given away to an over
powering exhilaration. With a
bound he sprang into the car and
immediately began to turn and
slide unfamiliar wheels and lev
ers. The sociologist, turning to
re-enter, became aware of a tre
mendous ripping and crashing at
the corner, followed by loud cries
of excitement. Looking back he
could see that the splendid motor
car had climbed almost half-way
up a telegraph pole, hopelessly
wrecked, and that the new owner,
who had pitched 50 feet farther,
was in a state of rags and tatters.
A big bluecoat was leading him

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