The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 95: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a Now, however, the tense troubled feeling with which he had gone to bed was melting away in the yellow sunshine of the morning. The boy began to suspect that he had made rather a fool of himself in listening to the little detective from the islands. Chan was an Oriental, also a policeman. Such a combination was bound to look at almost any situation with a jaundiced eye. After all he, Bob Eden, was here as the representative of Meek and Eden, and he must act as he saw fit. Was Chan in charge of this expedition, or was he? The door opened, and on the threshold stood Ah Kim, in the person of Charlie Chan. "You come ‘long, boss,” said his confederate loudly. "You ac’ lazy bimeby you no catch ‘um bleckfast." Having said which, Charlie gently closed the door and came in, grimacing as one who felt a keen distaste. "Silly talk like that hard business for me," he complained. "Chinese without accustomed dignity is like man without clothes, naked, and ashamed. You enjoy long, restful sleep, I think." Eden yawned. "Compared to me last night, Rip Van Winkle had insomnia.” "That's good. Humbly suggest you tear yourself out of that bed now. The great Madden indulges in nervous fit on living-room rug.” Eden laughed. "Suffering, is he? Well, we'll have to stop that." He tossed aside the covers. 95 comiicboeoe S CO