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Mike Flannery, the Westcote agent of the Interurban Express Company,
leaned over the counter of the express office and shook his fist. Mr.
Morehouse, angry and red, stood on the other side of the counter,
trembling with rage. The argument had been long and heated, and at last
Mr. Morehouse had talked himself speechless. The cause of the trouble
stood on the counter between the two men. It was a soap box across the top
of which were nailed a number of strips, forming a rough but serviceable
cage. In it two spotted guinea-pigs were greedily eating lettuce leaves.
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