Correct transcription errors

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@@ -37,7 +37,7 @@
 				<p>“What? The old man’s daughter. Comes in the shop every day. About nineteen, and the picture of the blonde that sits on the palisades of the Rhine and charms the clam-diggers into the surf. Hair the color of straw matting, and eyes as black and shiny as the best harness blacking⁠—think of that!</p>
 				<p>“Me? Well, it’s either me or Bill Watson. She treats us both equal. Bill is all to the psychopathic about her; and me?⁠—well, you saw me plating the roadbed of the Great Maroon Way with silver tonight. That was on account of Laura. I was spiflicated, Your Highness, and I wot not of what I wouldst.</p>
 				<p>“How? Why, old Hildebrandt says to me and Bill this afternoon: ‘Boys, one riddle have I for you gehabt haben. A young man who cannot riddles antworten, he is not so good by business for ein family to provide⁠—is not that⁠—hein?’ And he hands us a riddle⁠—a conundrum, some calls it⁠—and he chuckles interiorly and gives both of us till tomorrow morning to work out the answer to it. And he says whichever of us guesses the repartee end of it goes to his house o’ Wednesday night to his daughter’s birthday party. And it means Laura for whichever of us goes, for she’s naturally aching for a husband, and it’s either me or Bill Watson, for old Hildebrant likes us both, and wants her to marry somebody that’ll carry on the business after he’s stitched his last pair of traces.</p>
-				<p>“The riddle? Why, it was this: ‘What kind of a hen lays the longest? Think of that! What kind of a hen lays the longest? Ain’t it like a Dutchman to risk a man’s happiness on a fool proposition like that? Now, what’s the use? What I don’t know about hens would fill several incubators. You say you’re giving imitations of the old Arab guy that gave away⁠—libraries in Bagdad. Well, now, can you whistle up a fairy that’ll solve this hen query, or not?”</p>
+				<p>“The riddle? Why, it was this: ‘What kind of a hen lays the longest?’ Think of that! What kind of a hen lays the longest? Ain’t it like a Dutchman to risk a man’s happiness on a fool proposition like that? Now, what’s the use? What I don’t know about hens would fill several incubators. You say you’re giving imitations of the old Arab guy that gave away⁠—libraries in Bagdad. Well, now, can you whistle up a fairy that’ll solve this hen query, or not?”</p>
 				<p>When the young man ceased the Margrave arose and paced to and fro by the park bench for several minutes. Finally he sat again, and said, in grave and impressive tones:</p>
 				<p>“I must confess, sir, that during the eight years that I have spent in search of adventure and in relieving distress I have never encountered a more interesting or a more perplexing case. I fear that I have overlooked hens in my researches and observations. As to their habits, their times and manner of laying, their many varieties and cross-breedings, their span of life, their⁠—”</p>
 				<p>“Oh, don’t make an Ibsen drama of it!” interrupted the young man, flippantly. “Riddles⁠—especially old Hildebrant’s riddles⁠—don’t have to be worked out seriously. They are light themes such as Sim Ford and Harry Thurston Peck like to handle. But, somehow, I can’t strike just the answer. Bill Watson may, and he may not. Tomorrow will tell. Well, Your Majesty, I’m glad anyhow that you butted in and whiled the time away. I guess <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Al Rashid himself would have bounced back if one of his constituents had conducted him up against this riddle. I’ll say good night. Peace fo’ yours, and what-you-may-call-its of Allah.”</p>

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@@ -49,7 +49,7 @@
 			<p>The burglar looked down at his pistol and thrust it into his pocket with an awkward attempt at ease.</p>
 			<p>“Say, old man,” he said, constrainedly, “ever try opodeldoc?”</p>
 			<p>“Slop!” said the citizen angrily. “Might as well rub on restaurant butter.”</p>
-			<p>“Sure,” concurred the burglar. “It’s a salve suitable for little Minnie when the kitty scratches her finger. I’ll tell you what! We’re up against it. I only find one thing that eases her up. Hey? Little old sanitary, ameliorating, lest-we-forget Booze. Say⁠—this job’s off⁠—‘scuse me⁠—get on your clothes and let’s go out and have some. ’Scuse the liberty, but⁠—ouch! There she goes again!”</p>
+			<p>“Sure,” concurred the burglar. “It’s a salve suitable for little Minnie when the kitty scratches her finger. I’ll tell you what! We’re up against it. I only find one thing that eases her up. Hey? Little old sanitary, ameliorating, lest-we-forget Booze. Say⁠—this job’s off⁠—’scuse me⁠—get on your clothes and let’s go out and have some. ’Scuse the liberty, but⁠—ouch! There she goes again!”</p>
 			<p>“For a week,” said the citizen. “I haven’t been able to dress myself without help. I’m afraid Thomas is in bed, and⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Climb out,” said the burglar, “I’ll help you get into your duds.”</p>
 			<p>The conventional returned as a tidal wave and flooded the citizen. He stroked his brown-and-gray beard.</p>

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@@ -15,12 +15,12 @@
 			<p>“It is,” said Jeff. “I never told you about the time when me and Andy Tucker was philanthropists, did I? It was eight years ago in Arizona. Andy and me was out in the Gila mountains with a two-horse wagon prospecting for silver. We struck it, and sold out to parties in Tucson for $25,000. They paid our check at the bank in silver⁠—a thousand dollars in a sack. We loaded it in our wagon and drove east a hundred miles before we recovered our presence of intellect. Twenty-five thousand dollars doesn’t sound like so much when you’re reading the annual report of the Pennsylvania Railroad or listening to an actor talking about his salary; but when you can raise up a wagon sheet and kick around your bootheel and hear every one of ’em ring against another it makes you feel like you was a night-and-day bank with the clock striking twelve.</p>
 			<p>“The third day out we drove into one of the most specious and tidy little towns that Nature or Rand and McNally ever turned out. It was in the foothills, and mitigated with trees and flowers and about 2,000 head of cordial and dilatory inhabitants. The town seemed to be called Floresville, and Nature had not contaminated it with many railroads, fleas or Eastern tourists.</p>
 			<p>“Me and Andy deposited our money to the credit of Peters and Tucker in the Esperanza Savings Bank, and got rooms at the Skyview Hotel. After supper we lit up, and sat out on the gallery and smoked. Then was when the philanthropy idea struck me. I suppose every grafter gets it sometime.</p>
-			<p>“When a man swindles the public out of a certain amount he begins to get scared and wants to return part of it. And if you’ll watch close and notice the way his charity runs you’ll see that he tries to restore it to the same people he got it from. As a hydrostatical case, take, let’s say, ‘A.’ ‘A’ made his millions selling oil to poor students who sit up nights studying political economy and methods for regulating the trusts. So, back to the universities and colleges goes his conscience dollars.</p>
-			<p>“There’s ‘B’ got his from the common laboring man that works with his hands and tools. How’s he to get some of the remorse fund back into their overalls?</p>
-			<p>“ ‘Aha!’ says ‘B’, ‘I’ll do it in the name of Education. I’ve skinned the laboring man,’ says he to himself, ‘but, according to the old proverb, “Charity covers a multitude of skins.” ’</p>
+			<p>“When a man swindles the public out of a certain amount he begins to get scared and wants to return part of it. And if you’ll watch close and notice the way his charity runs you’ll see that he tries to restore it to the same people he got it from. As a hydrostatical case, take, let’s say, A. A made his millions selling oil to poor students who sit up nights studying political economy and methods for regulating the trusts. So, back to the universities and colleges goes his conscience dollars.</p>
+			<p>“There’s B got his from the common laboring man that works with his hands and tools. How’s he to get some of the remorse fund back into their overalls?</p>
+			<p>“ ‘Aha!’ says B, ‘I’ll do it in the name of Education. I’ve skinned the laboring man,’ says he to himself, ‘but, according to the old proverb, “Charity covers a multitude of skins.” ’</p>
 			<p>“So he puts up eighty million dollars’ worth of libraries; and the boys with the dinner pail that builds ’em gets the benefit.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘Where’s the books?’ asks the reading public.</p>
-			<p>“ ‘I dinna ken,’ says ‘B.’ ‘I offered ye libraries; and there they are. I suppose if I’d given ye preferred steel trust stock instead ye’d have wanted the water in it set out in cut glass decanters. Hoot, for ye!’</p>
+			<p>“ ‘I dinna ken,’ says B. ‘I offered ye libraries; and there they are. I suppose if I’d given ye preferred steel trust stock instead ye’d have wanted the water in it set out in cut glass decanters. Hoot, for ye!’</p>
 			<p>“But, as I said, the owning of so much money was beginning to give me philanthropitis. It was the first time me and Andy had ever made a pile big enough to make us stop and think how we got it.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘Andy,’ says I, ‘we’re wealthy⁠—not beyond the dreams of average; but in our humble way we are comparatively as rich as Greasers. I feel as if I’d like to do something for as well as to humanity.’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘I was thinking the same thing, Jeff,’ says he. ‘We’ve been gouging the public for a long time with all kinds of little schemes from selling self-igniting celluloid collars to flooding Georgia with Hoke Smith presidential campaign buttons. I’d like, myself, to hedge a bet or two in the graft game if I could do it without actually banging the cymbalines in the Salvation Army or teaching a bible class by the Bertillon system.</p>

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@@ -30,7 +30,7 @@
 			<p>“ ‘That reminds me,’ says he; ‘add $8.50 for pepsin. Yes, I got indigestion.’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘How am I supposed to push along your scramble for prominence?’ I inquires. ‘Contrast?’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘Something of that sort tonight,’ says Vaucross. ‘It grieves me; but I am forced to resort to eccentricity.’ And here he drops his napkin in his soup and rises up and bows to a gent who is devastating a potato under a palm across the room.</p>
-			<p>“ ‘The Police Commissioner,’ says my climber, gratified. ‘Friend’, says I, in a hurry, ‘have ambitions but don’t kick a rung out of your ladder. When you use me as a stepping stone to salute the police you spoil my appetite on the grounds that I may be degraded and incriminated. Be thoughtful.’</p>
+			<p>“ ‘The Police Commissioner,’ says my climber, gratified. ‘Friend,’ says I, in a hurry, ‘have ambitions but don’t kick a rung out of your ladder. When you use me as a stepping stone to salute the police you spoil my appetite on the grounds that I may be degraded and incriminated. Be thoughtful.’</p>
 			<p>“At the Quaker City squab <span xml:lang="fr">en casserole</span> the idea about Artemisia Blye comes to me.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘Suppose I can manage to get you in the papers,’ says I⁠—‘a column or two every day in all of ’em and your picture in most of ’em for a week. How much would it be worth to you?’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘Ten thousand dollars,’ says Vaucross, warm in a minute. ‘But no murder,’ says he; ‘and I won’t wear pink pants at a cotillon.’</p>

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@@ -23,7 +23,7 @@
 			<p>There is no coign of vantage more effective than the position of young lady cashier. She sits there, easily queen of the court of commerce; she is duchess of dollars and devoirs, countess of compliments and coin, leading lady of love and luncheon. You take from her a smile and a Canadian dime, and you go your way uncomplaining. You count the cheery word or two that she tosses you as misers count their treasures; and you pocket the change for a five uncomputed. Perhaps the brassbound inaccessibility multiplies her charms⁠—anyhow, she is a shirt-waisted angel, immaculate, trim, manicured, seductive, bright-eyed, ready, alert⁠—Psyche, Circe, and Ate in one, separating you from your circulating medium after your sirloin medium.</p>
 			<p>The young men who broke bread at Hinkle’s never settled with the cashier without an exchange of badinage and open compliment. Many of them went to greater lengths and dropped promissory hints of theatre tickets and chocolates. The older men spoke plainly of orange blossoms, generally withering the tentative petals by after-allusions to Harlem flats. One broker, who had been squeezed by copper proposed to Miss Merriam more regularly than he ate.</p>
 			<p>During a brisk luncheon hour Miss Merriam’s conversation, while she took money for checks, would run something like this:</p>
-			<p>“Good morning, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Haskins⁠—sir?⁠—it’s natural, thank you⁠—don’t be quite so fresh⁠ ⁠… Hello, Johnny⁠—ten, fifteen, twenty⁠—chase along now or they’ll take the letters off your cap⁠ ⁠… Beg pardon⁠—count it again, please⁠—Oh, don’t mention it⁠ ⁠… Vaudeville?⁠—thanks; not on your moving picture⁠—I was to see Carter in Hedda Gabler on Wednesday night with <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Simmons⁠ ⁠… ’Scuse me, I thought that was a quarter⁠ ⁠… Twenty-five and seventy-five’s a dollar⁠—got that ham-and-cabbage habit yet. I see, Billy⁠ ⁠… Who are you addressing?⁠—say⁠—you’ll get all that’s coming to you in a minute⁠ ⁠… Oh, fudge! <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Bassett⁠—you’re always fooling⁠—no⁠—? Well, maybe I’ll marry you some day⁠—three, four and sixty-five is five⁠ ⁠… Kindly keep them remarks to yourself, if you please⁠ ⁠… Ten cents?⁠—‘scuse me; the check calls for seventy⁠—well, maybe it is a one instead of a seven⁠ ⁠… Oh, do you like it that way, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Saunders?⁠—some prefer a pomp; but they say this Cleo de Merody does suit refined features⁠ ⁠… and ten is fifty⁠ ⁠… Hike along there, buddy; don’t take this for a Coney Island ticket booth⁠ ⁠… Huh?⁠—why, Macy’s⁠—don’t it fit nice? Oh, no, it isn’t too cool⁠—these lightweight fabrics is all the go this season⁠ ⁠… Come again, please⁠—that’s the third time you’ve tried to⁠—what?⁠—forget it⁠—that lead quarter is an old friend of mine⁠ ⁠… Sixty-five?⁠—must have had your salary raised, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wilson⁠ ⁠… I seen you on Sixth Avenue Tuesday afternoon, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> De Forest⁠—swell?⁠—oh, my!⁠—who is she?⁠ ⁠… What’s the matter with it?⁠—why, it ain’t money⁠—what?⁠—Columbian half?⁠—well, this ain’t South America⁠ ⁠… Yes, I like the mixed best⁠—Friday?⁠—awfully sorry, but I take my jiujitsu lesson on Friday⁠—Thursday, then⁠ ⁠… Thanks⁠—that’s sixteen times I’ve been told that this morning⁠—I guess I must be beautiful⁠ ⁠… Cut that out, please⁠—who do you think I am?⁠ ⁠… Why, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Westbrook⁠—do you really think so?⁠—the idea!⁠—one⁠—eighty and twenty’s a dollar⁠—thank you ever so much, but I don’t ever go automobile riding with gentlemen⁠—your aunt?⁠—well, that’s different⁠—perhaps⁠ ⁠… Please don’t get fresh⁠—your check was fifteen cents, I believe⁠—kindly step aside and let⁠ ⁠… Hello, Ben⁠—coming around Thursday evening?⁠—there’s a gentleman going to send around a box of chocolates, and⁠ ⁠… forty and sixty is a dollar, and one is two⁠ ⁠…”</p>
+			<p>“Good morning, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Haskins⁠—sir?⁠—it’s natural, thank you⁠—don’t be quite so fresh⁠ ⁠… Hello, Johnny⁠—ten, fifteen, twenty⁠—chase along now or they’ll take the letters off your cap⁠ ⁠… Beg pardon⁠—count it again, please⁠—Oh, don’t mention it⁠ ⁠… Vaudeville?⁠—thanks; not on your moving picture⁠—I was to see Carter in Hedda Gabler on Wednesday night with <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Simmons⁠ ⁠… ’Scuse me, I thought that was a quarter⁠ ⁠… Twenty-five and seventy-five’s a dollar⁠—got that ham-and-cabbage habit yet. I see, Billy⁠ ⁠… Who are you addressing?⁠—say⁠—you’ll get all that’s coming to you in a minute⁠ ⁠… Oh, fudge! <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Bassett⁠—you’re always fooling⁠—no⁠—? Well, maybe I’ll marry you some day⁠—three, four and sixty-five is five⁠ ⁠… Kindly keep them remarks to yourself, if you please⁠ ⁠… Ten cents?⁠—’scuse me; the check calls for seventy⁠—well, maybe it is a one instead of a seven⁠ ⁠… Oh, do you like it that way, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Saunders?⁠—some prefer a pomp; but they say this Cleo de Merody does suit refined features⁠ ⁠… and ten is fifty⁠ ⁠… Hike along there, buddy; don’t take this for a Coney Island ticket booth⁠ ⁠… Huh?⁠—why, Macy’s⁠—don’t it fit nice? Oh, no, it isn’t too cool⁠—these lightweight fabrics is all the go this season⁠ ⁠… Come again, please⁠—that’s the third time you’ve tried to⁠—what?⁠—forget it⁠—that lead quarter is an old friend of mine⁠ ⁠… Sixty-five?⁠—must have had your salary raised, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wilson⁠ ⁠… I seen you on Sixth Avenue Tuesday afternoon, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> De Forest⁠—swell?⁠—oh, my!⁠—who is she?⁠ ⁠… What’s the matter with it?⁠—why, it ain’t money⁠—what?⁠—Columbian half?⁠—well, this ain’t South America⁠ ⁠… Yes, I like the mixed best⁠—Friday?⁠—awfully sorry, but I take my jiujitsu lesson on Friday⁠—Thursday, then⁠ ⁠… Thanks⁠—that’s sixteen times I’ve been told that this morning⁠—I guess I must be beautiful⁠ ⁠… Cut that out, please⁠—who do you think I am?⁠ ⁠… Why, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Westbrook⁠—do you really think so?⁠—the idea!⁠—one⁠—eighty and twenty’s a dollar⁠—thank you ever so much, but I don’t ever go automobile riding with gentlemen⁠—your aunt?⁠—well, that’s different⁠—perhaps⁠ ⁠… Please don’t get fresh⁠—your check was fifteen cents, I believe⁠—kindly step aside and let⁠ ⁠… Hello, Ben⁠—coming around Thursday evening?⁠—there’s a gentleman going to send around a box of chocolates, and⁠ ⁠… forty and sixty is a dollar, and one is two⁠ ⁠…”</p>
 			<p>About the middle of one afternoon the dizzy goddess Vertigo⁠—whose other name is Fortune⁠—suddenly smote an old, wealthy and eccentric banker while he was walking past Hinkle’s, on his way to a street car. A wealthy and eccentric banker who rides in street cars is⁠—move up, please; there are others.</p>
 			<p>A Samaritan, a Pharisee, a man and a policeman who were first on the spot lifted Banker McRamsey and carried him into Hinkle’s restaurant. When the aged but indestructible banker opened his eyes he saw a beautiful vision bending over him with a pitiful, tender smile, bathing his forehead with beef tea and chafing his hands with something frappé out of a chafing-dish. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> McRamsey sighed, lost a vest button, gazed with deep gratitude upon his fair preserveress, and then recovered consciousness.</p>
 			<p>To the Seaside Library all who are anticipating a romance! Banker McRamsey had an aged and respected wife, and his sentiments toward Miss Merriam were fatherly. He talked to her for half an hour with interest⁠—not the kind that went with his talks during business hours. The next day he brought <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> McRamsey down to see her. The old couple were childless⁠—they had only a married daughter living in Brooklyn.</p>