"Doesn't that beat
everything?"
The Fat Lady was ponderously unwinding the coils of the boa constrictor
from round her neck as we paused in front of her cage, but presently she
recognized us and smiled. We asked her whether she wasn't afraid to let
the snake coil itself round her neck.
"No, not when he has had his powders," she replied. "Sometimes, when he
is waking up, I have to be a little careful not to let him get clean
round me, or he'd give me a squeeze."
The old man and the educated dogs had just finished their performance
when we came in, and so we went over to the platform on the other side
of the tent, where the gypsy fortune teller was plying her vocation.
"Cross me palm, young gentlemen," she droned. "Cross me palm wi' siller,
and I'll tell your fortunes and all that's going to happen to you." Then
she, too, recognized us and smiled. "Did you find your hogs?" she asked.
"All but one," Willis told her.
"It was too bad," she said, "but you never will get anything out of the
boss of this show. He's a brute! He cheats me out of half my contract
money right along."
"Where do you come from?" Willis said with a knowing air.
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