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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Galusha the Magnificent"

Didn't we agree to that? Isn't that so?"
"Why--why, yes, Cousin Gussie. You have been very kind. I appreciate it,
I assure you."
"Oh, be hanged! I haven't been kind. I've only been trying to keep you
from being TOO kind to people who work you for a good thing, that's all.
Look here, Loosh: _I_ know what you've done with that thirteen thousand
dollars."
Galusha shot one more pitiful glance in the direction of the kitchen.
"Ah--ah--do you?" he stammered.
"Yes. You've given it away, haven't you?"
"Well--well, you see--"
"You have? I knew it! And I know whom you've given it to."
There was no answer to be made to this appalling assertion. Poor Galusha
merely clung to the receiver and awaited his death sentence.
"You've given it to some mummy-hunter to fit out another grave-robbing
expedition. Now, haven't you?"
"Why--why--"
"Be a sport now, Loosh! Tell me the truth. That's what you've done,
isn't it?"
Galusha hesitated, closing his eyes, struggled with his better
nature, conquered it, and faltered: "Why--why--in a way of speaking, I
suppose--"
"I knew it! I bet Minor a dinner on it. Well, confound you, Loosh; don't
you realize they're only working you for what they can get out of you?
Haven't I told you not to be such an ass? You soft-headed old... Here!
What's the matter with this wire? Hello, Central! Hello!.


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