“Say, ’Bo,” said Black Riley to him,
“where did you cop out dat doll?”
“This doll?” asked Fuzzy, touching
Betsy with his forefinger to be sure
that she was the one referred to.
“Why, this doll was presented to me
by the Emperor of Beloochisfan. I
have seven hundred others in my
country home in. ^Newport This
doll-”
"Cheese the funny business,” said
Riley. "You swiped it or picked it up
at de house on de hill where—but
never mind dat You want to take
fifty cents for de rags, and take it
quick. Me brother's kid at home
mlghPbe wantin’ to play wkl it Her
—whatr
He produeed the tola.
Fuzzy laughed a gurgling, insolent
alcoholic laugh In hia fane. Go to the
office of Sarah Bernhard’s manager
and propose to him that she be re
leased from a night’s performance to
entertain the Tackytown Lyceum and
Literary Coterie. You will hear the
duplicate of Fuzzy’s laugh.
Black Riley gauged Fuzzy quickly
with his blueberry eye as a wrestler
does. His hand was itching to play
the Roman and wrest the rag Sabine
from the extemporaneous merry-an
drew who was entertaining an angel
unaware. But he refrained. Fuzzy
was fat and solid and big. Three
Inches of well-nourished corporeity,
defended from the winter winds by
dingy linen, intervened between his
vest and trousers. Countless small,
circular wrinkles running around his
coat-sleeves and knees guaranteed
the quality of his bone and muscle.
His small, blue eyes, bathed in the
moisture of altruism and wooziness,
looked upon you kindly yet without
abashment. He was whiskerly, whls
kyly, fleshily formidable. ' So, Black
Riley temporized.
“Wot’ll you take for it, den?” he
asked.
