Slippy McGee, Sometimes Known as the Butterfly Man eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 434 pages of information about Slippy McGee, Sometimes Known as the Butterfly Man.

Slippy McGee, Sometimes Known as the Butterfly Man eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 434 pages of information about Slippy McGee, Sometimes Known as the Butterfly Man.
and lumps those days!) why, I got me the real thing in glad rags from the real thing in tailors, and I used to blow a queen that’d been a swell herself once, to the joint where the gilt-edged bunch eat and show off their clothes and the rest of themselves.  My jane looked the part to the life, I had the kale and the clothes and was chesty as a head-waiter, being considerably stuck on yours truly along about then, so we put it over.  I had the chance to get hep to the last word in clothes and manners; that’s what I’d gone for, though I didn’t tell that to the skirt I was buying the eats for.  And it was good business, too, for more than once when some precinct bonehead that pipe-dreamed he was a detective was pussy-catting some cold rat-hole, there was me vanbibbering in the white light at the swellest joints in little old New York!  Funny, wasn’t it?  And handy!  And I was learning, too—­learning things worth good money to know.  I saw that the best sort didn’t make any noise about anything.  They went about their business, whatever it was, easy-easy, same as me in my line.  But, parson, though I’d got hep to the outside, and had sense enough to copy what I’d seen, I wasn’t wise to the inside difference—­the things that make the best what it is, I mean—­because I’d never been close enough to find out that there’s more to it than looks and duds and manners.  It took the Parish House people to soak that into me.  People aren’t anything but people—­but the best are—­well, different.”

We fell silent; a happy silence, into which, as from another planet, there drifted light laughter, and sweet gay voices of girls, and the stir and rustle of many people moving about.  On the Mayne fence the judge’s black Panch sat, neck outstretched, emerald eyes aslant, ears cocked uneasily at these unwonted noises.  At a little distance a bluejay watched him with bright malevolent eyes, every now and then screaming insults at the whole tribe of cats, and black Panch in particular.  Flint snapped his fingers, and Panch, with a spring, was off the fence and on his friend’s knees.  It seemed to me it had only needed the sleek beastie to make that hour perfect;—­for cats in the highest degree make for a sense of homely, friendly intimacy.  Flint, feeling this, stroked the black head contentedly.  Panch purred for the three of us.

Into this presently broke Miss Sally Ruth Dexter, and bore down on John Flint like a frigate with all sails spread.  At sight of her Panch spat and fled, and took the happy spell with him.

“Here you are, cuddling that old pirate of a black cat!” said she, briskly.  “I told Madame you’d be mooning about somewhere.  Here’s some cocoanut cake for you both.  Father, Madame’s been looking for you.  Did you know,” she sank her voice to a piercing whisper, “that George Inglesby’s here?  Well, he is!  He’s talking to Mary Virginia Eustis, this very minute!  They do say he’s running after Mary Virginia, and I’m sure I wouldn’t

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Slippy McGee, Sometimes Known as the Butterfly Man from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.