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Leacock, Stephen, 1869-1944

"Moonbeams from the Larger Lunacy"


"I've no sealing wax," he said, "or not handy."
"That doesn't matter," I answered, "just put it in the
paper."
Over the way of course the tooth brush would have been
done up almost instantaneously, in white enamel paper,
sealed at the end and stamped with a label, as fast as
the money paid for it went rattling along an automatic
carrier to a cashier.
"You've been very busy, eh?" I asked.
"Well, not so much with customers," he said, "but with
fixing up the place,"--here he glanced about him. Heaven
only knows what he had fixed. There were no visible signs
of it.
"You see I've only been in here a couple of months. It
was a pretty tough looking place when I came to it. But
I've been getting things fixed. First thing I did I put
those two carboys in the window with the lights behind
them. They show up fine, don't they?"
"Fine!" I repeated; so fine indeed that the dim yellow
light in them reached three or four feet from the jar.
But for the streaming light from the great store across
the street, the windows of the little shop would have
been invisible.


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