]
The snake reporter of _The Rolling Stone_ was wandering up the avenue
last night on his way home from the Y.M.C.A. rooms when he was approached
by a gaunt, hungry-looking man with wild eyes and dishevelled hair. He
accosted the reporter in a hollow, weak voice.
"'Can you tell me, Sir, where I can find in this town a family of
scrubs?'
"'I don't understand exactly.'
"'Let me tell you how it is,' said the stranger, inserting his
forefinger in the reporter's buttonhole and badly damaging his
chrysanthemum. 'I am a representative from Soapstone County, and I and
my family are houseless, homeless, and shelterless. We have not tasted
food for over a week. I brought my family with me, as I have indigestion
and could not get around much with the boys. Some days ago I started out
to find a boarding house, as I cannot afford to put up at a hotel. I
found a nice aristocratic-looking place, that suited me, and went in and
asked for the proprietress. A very stately lady with a Roman nose came
in the room. She had one hand laid across her stom--across her waist,
and the other held a lace handkerchief.
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