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A tramp entered a baker's, shivering piteously.

"A loaf, please, mum," he said, placing the money on the counter. The
woman gave him one. As he took it, he said with shaking voice:

"Where's the nearest hospital, mum, please?"

"The nearest hospital!" she ejaculated.

"Yes, mum, I'm feeling bad. I believe I'm sickening for something; the
scarlet fever, I think."

"What!" she shrieked. "Get out of my shop."

He turned to obey.

"Here, take your money back," she said. He did so; and, offering the
bread, said humbly:

"You'll take yer loaf, won't yer, mum?"

"Get out of my shop."

He crawled out, and with bowed head went around the corner. Presently,
another mountain of misery joined him.

"Well, Bill?" he said.

"Right oh! 'Enery," came the answer. "It worked a treat. Now you do it
fer a bit o' bacon, and then we can have lunch."

* * *





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Previous: Bottled Courage



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