"It's as tough as a ten-year-old chicken," said Dick. "It won't
be healthy for Tim to come round my way. What made him steal
your fiddle? He ain't goin' into the musical line, is he?"
"He was angry because I didn't want to lend it to him."
Just then Tim Rafferty himself turned the corner. There was a
lull in his business, and he was wandering along the street
eating an apple.
"There he is," said Phil, suddenly espying his enemy.
Dick looked up, and saw with satisfaction that Phil was right.
Tim had not yet espied either, nor did he till Dick addressed
him.
"Are you round collectin' fiddles this mornin'?" he asked.
Tim looked up, and, seeing that his victim had found an able
champion, felt anxious to withdraw. He was about to turn back,
but Dick advanced with a determined air.
"Jest stop a minute, Tim Rafferty," said he. "I'm a-goin' to
intervoo you for the Herald. That's what they do with all the
big rascals nowadays."
"I'm in a hurry," said Tim.
"That's what the pickpocket said when the cop was gently
persuadin' him to go to the Tombs, but the cop didn't see it. I
want the pleasure of your society a minute or two. I hear you're
in the music business.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119