You oughta be on it, Casey," Bill said ominously.
At the garage the Barrymores were waiting for him in their stage clothes and make-up.

The show lady had wept seams down through her rouge, and the beads on her lashes had clotted unbecomingly.
"Mister, you certainly have wished a sorry deal on to us," she exclaimed, when Casey came hobbling through the doorway.

"Fifteen years on the stage and _this_ never happened to us before.

We've took our bad luck with our good luck and lived honest and respectable and self-respecting, and here, at last, ill fortune has tied the can on to us.

I know you meant well and all that, Mister, but we certainly have had a raw deal handed out to us in this town.