"
"To what?" asked Starbuck.
Here the boy interposed with a superior air:--
"Thee meanth Couthin Dick. He'th got Krithmath."
"Where's your mother?"
"Dead."
"And your father?"
"In orthpittal."
There was a laugh somewhere on the outskirts of the crowd. Every one
faced angrily in that direction, but the laugher had disappeared. Yuba
Bill, however, sent his voice after him. "Yes, in hospital! Funny, ain't
it?--amoosin' place! Try it. Step over here, and in five minutes, by the
living Hoky, I'll qualify you for admission, and not charge you a cent!"
He stopped, gave a sweeping glance of dissatisfaction around him, and
then, leaning back against the bar, beckoned to some one near the door,
and said in a disgusted tone, "You tell these galoots how it happened,
Bracy. They make me sick!"
Thus appealed to, Bracy, the express messenger, stepped forward in Yuba
Bill's place.
"It's nothing particular, gentlemen," he said, with a laugh, "only
it seems that some man called Spindler, who lives about here, sent an
invitation to the father of these children to bring his family to a
Christmas party.
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