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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Peter: a novel of which he is not the hero"

"
"All in his line of business, Uncle Peter," Jack laughed. "How
much interest did they pay,--cent per cent?"
"I am ashamed of you, Jack. Not a penny. Don't let your mind get
clogged up, my boy, with such prejudices,--keep the slate of your
judgment sponged clean."
"But you believe everybody is clean, Uncle Peter."
"And so must you, until you prove them dirty. Now, will you do me
a very great kindness and yourself one as well? Please go
downstairs, rap three times at Mr. Cohen's shutters--hard, so that
he can hear you--that's my signal--present my compliments and ask
him to be kind enough to come up and have a cigar with us."
Jack leaned forward in his seat, his face showing his
astonishment.
"You don't mean it?"
"I do."
"All right."
The boy was out of his chair and clattering down-stairs before
Peter could add another word to his message. If he had asked him
to crawl out on the roof and drop himself into the third-story
window of the next house, he would have obeyed him with the same
alacrity.


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