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"Friends, they are only gilded disks of lead!"
There was a crashing outbreak of delight over this news, and when the
noise had subsided, the tanner called out:
"By right of apparent seniority in this business, Mr. Wilson is Chairman
of the Committee on Propagation of the Tradition. I suggest that he step
forward on behalf of his pals, and receive in trust the money."
A Hundred Voices. "Wilson! Wilson! Wilson! Speech! Speech!"
Wilson [in a voice trembling with anger]. "You will allow me to say, and
without apologies for my language, damn the money!"
A Voice. "Oh, and him a Baptist!"
A Voice. "Seventeen Symbols left! Step up, gentlemen, and assume your
trust!"
There was a pause--no response.
The Saddler. "Mr. Chairman, we've got one clean man left, anyway, out
of the late aristocracy; and he needs money, and deserves it. I move
that you appoint Jack Halliday to get up there and auction off that sack
of gilt twenty-dollar pieces, and give the result to the right man--the
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