CHAPTER XXIV: EVICTED“Well, I ain’t goin’ to git off. Harmony Singer told me that this was my home, didn’t he? No danged weasel-faced lawyer is goin’ to hoodle me out of my home. My work is sat’sfact’ry, and I stay here. Let him come out here. What do I care? I’ll jist pistol-whip him and retain m’ position. That’s me, all the time.”
Sailor Jones leaned back from the breakfast table at the Box S and glared at the red-faced Whispering, who was baking hot cakes. Across the table from Sailor sat Larry, his plate piled high with steaming cakes.
“I guess I’m about full,” the boy announced.
“Yuh ain’t full,” declared Whispering. “Yuh can’t be full of jist sixteen hot cakes. Eat up them five, and I’ll have some fresh ones for yuh. You satisfied, Sailor?”
“Got enough cakes—yeah.”
“Kinda puny,
