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Jacobs, W. W., 1863-1943

"A Spirit of Avarice Odd Craft, Part 11."

"'Ow goes it, old pal?"
Mr. Joe Carter, still dozing, opened his eyes at the sound of his name
and looked round; then, coming to the conclusion that he had been
dreaming, closed them again.
"I'm a-looking at you, Joe," said Mr. Blows, waggishly. "I can see you."
Mr. Carter looked up sharply and, catching sight of the grinning features
of Mr. Blows protruding over the edge of the straw, threw up his arms
with a piercing shriek and fell off the shafts on to the road. The
astounded Mr. Blows, raising himself on his hands, saw him pick himself
up and, giving vent to a series of fearsome yelps, run clumsily back
along the road.
"Joe!" shouted Mr. Blows. "J-o-o-oE!"
[Illustration: "'Joe!' shouted Mr. Blows. 'J-o-o-OE!'"]
Mr. Carter put his hands to his ears and ran on blindly, while his
friend, sitting on the top of the straw, regarded his proceedings with
mixed feelings of surprise and indignation.
"It can't be that tanner 'e owes me," he mused, "and yet I don't know
what else it can be. I never see a man so jumpy."
He continued to speculate while the old horse, undisturbed by the
driver's absence, placidly continued its journey.


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