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A Tale of Two Cities

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The head of one of the regular indoor messengers attached to Tellson’s establishment was put through the door, and the word was given: One of the regular messengers that worked in the bank poked his head out the door and said:
“Porter wanted!” “We need a porter!”
“Hooray, father! Here’s an early job to begin with!” “Hooray, Father! Here’s an early job to start the day with!”
Having thus given his parent God speed, young Jerry seated himself on the stool, entered on his reversionary interest in the straw his father had been chewing, and cogitated. Having sent his father off, young Jerry sat on the stool, looked at the straw his father had been chewing on, and thought.
“Al-ways rusty! His fingers is al-ways rusty!” muttered young Jerry. “Where does my father get all that iron rust from? He don’t get no iron rust here!” “My father’s fingers are always so rusty!” mumbled young Jerry. “Where does he get all that iron rust on him? He doesn’t get any iron rust on him working here at the bank!”

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