A Fat's got to look ahead for a
thin day. Strong for a weak day. That's why I wish, Mr. Jastrow, you'd
cut out that glass-eating feature of yours."
"How much you got, Airy-Fairy? Lemme double your money for you!"
"She's worth her weight in gold."
"Lemme double it!"
"Like fun I will. A spendthrift like you!"
"Which way you going?"
"We always go home by the beach. Shapiro made it a rule that the Bigs
and Littles can't ever show themselves on Ocean Avenue."
"Come on, you little flea; I'll ride you up the beach on my shoulder."
"Oh, Mr. Jastrow, you--you going to walk home with me--and--Baron?"
"Come on was what I said."
He mounted the Baron de Ross to his bulge of shoulder with veriest toss,
Miss Hoag, in a multi-fold cape that was a merciful shroud to the bulk
of her, descending from the platform. The place had emptied itself of
its fantastic congress of nature's pranks, only the grotesque print of
it remaining. The painted snake-chests closed. The array of gustatory
swords, each in flannelet slip-cover. The wild man's cage, empty. The
tiny velocipede of the Baron de Ross, upside down against rust. A hall
of wonder here. A cave of distorted fancy.
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