two minutes past eleven
His feet danced behind the bar as he filled schooners of beer and scraped off their foam with a celluloid ruler . He saw himself in Panama , with a clean man 's job , talking to cosmopolitan engineers against a background of green-and-scarlet jungle . And , oh yes , he was going to beat Petey McGuff that evening , and get back much of the belligerent self-respect which he had been drawing off into schooners with the beer . Old Petey rolled in at two minutes past eleven , warmed his hands at the gas-stove , poked disapprovingly at the pretzels on the free-lunch counter , and bawled at Carl : `` Hey , keep away from dat cash-register ! Wipe dem goilish tears away , will yuh , Agnes , and bring us a little health-destroyer and a couple matches . '' Carl brought a whisky cocktail . `` Where 's de matches , you tissy-cat ? ''