Miching Mallecho. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. "If I were your father, young gentleman," returned Jackson, enraged at the interruption, "I'd teach you not to speak till you were spoken to. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him.
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