| [00:01.44] | Mike Flannery, the agent of the Interurban Express Company leaned over the desk in the company's office in Westcote and shook his fist. Mister Morehouse, angry and red, stood on the other side of the desk, shaking with fury. The argument had been long and hot. At last, Mister Morehouse had become speechless. The cause of the trouble lay on the desk between the two men. It was a box with two Guinea pigs inside. "Do as you like them." shouted Flannery, "Pay for them and take them. Or don't pay for them and leave them here. Rules are rules, Mister Morehouse. And Mike Flannery is not going to break them." "But you stupid idiot!" shouted Mister Morehouse, madly shaking a thin book beneath the agent's nose. "Can't you read it here in your own book of transportation rates? Pets, domestic, Franklin to Westcote, if correctly boxed, 25 cents each." He threw the book on the desk. "What more do you want? Aren't they Pets, Aren't they domestic? Aren't they correctly boxed? What?" |
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