BITS OF LIFE . 
9i 
new methods of peaceful plundering, copied 
Fifth Avenue’s cut of clothes and neckwear 
fancies, and comported itself according to its 
lawless bylaws. But the Kid stood firm and 
faithful to his Molly, even though the polish 
was gone from his finger-nails and it took 
him fifteen minutes to tie his purple silk ascot 
so that the worn places would not show. 
One evening he brought a mysterious 
bundle with him to Molly's house. 
“ Open that, Moll ! ” he said, in his large, 
quiet way. “ It’s for you.” 
Molly’s eager fingers tore off the wrappings* 
She shrieked aloud, 
and in rushed a 
sprinkling of little 
McKeevers and Ma 
M c K e e v e r, dish- 
washy, but an unde- 
niable relative of the 
late Mrs. Eve. 
Again M o 1 1 y 
shrieked, and some- 
thing dark and long 
and sinuous flew and 
enveloped her neck 
like an anaconda. 
“ Russian sables,” 
said the Kid, pride- 
fully, enjoying the 
sight of Molly’s round 
cheek against the 
clinging fur. “ The 
real thing. They 
don’t grow anything 
in Russia too good 
for you, Moll.” 
Molly plunged her 
hands into the muff, 
overturned a row of 
family infants, and 
flew to the mirror. 
Hint for the beauty 
column: To make 
bright eyes, rosy cheeks, and a bewitch- 
ing smile. Recipe : one set Russian sables. 
Apply. 
When they were alone, Molly became aware 
of a small cake of the ice of common- 
sense floating down the full tide of her 
happiness. 
“ You’re a bird, 
admitted, gratefully. “ 
on before in my life, 
sables awful expensive ? 
heard they were.” 
“ Have I ever chucked any bargain-sale 
stuff at you, Moll ? ” asked the Kid, with 
calm dignity. “ Did you ever notice me 
all right, Kid,” she 
I never had any furs 
But ain’t Russian 
Seems to me I’ve 
leaning on the bargain- counter or peering in 
the remnant window ? Call that scarf two 
hundred and fifty dollars and the muff a 
hundred and seventy-five, and you won’t 
make any mistake about the price of Russian 
sables. The swell goods for me. Say, they 
look fine on you, Moll.” 
Molly hugged the sables to her bosom in 
rapture. And then her smile went away 
little by little, and she looked the Kid straight 
in the eye sadly and steadily. 
He knew what every look of hers meant ; 
and he laughed, with a faint flush upon his 
face. 
“ Stop that!” he 
said, with affection- 
ate roughness. “ I 
told you I was done 
with that. I bought 
’em and paid for ’em 
all right, with my own 
money.” 
“Out of the 
money you worked 
for, Kid ? Out of 
seventy-five dollars a 
month ? ” 
“ Sure. I’ve been 
saving up.” 
“ Let’s see — saved 
four hundred and 
twenty - five dollars 
in eight months, 
Kid ? ” 
“Ah, let up,” said 
Kid, with some heat. 
“ I had some money 
when I went to 
work. Do you think 
l’ve been holding 
’em up again ? 1 
told you I’d quit. 
They’re paid for on 
the square. Put ’em 
on and come out for a walk.” 
Molly calmed her doubts. Sables are sooth- 
ing. Proud as a queen she went forth in the 
streets at the Kid’s side. In all that region 
of low-lving streets Russian sables had never 
been seen before. The word sped, and doors 
and windows blossomed with heads eager to 
see the swell furs Kid Brady had given his 
girl. All down the street there were “ Oh’s ” 
and “Ah’s,” and the reported fabulous sum 
paid for the sables was passed from lip to lip, 
increasing as it went. At her right elbow 
sauntered the Kid with the air of princes. 
Work had not diminished his love of pomp 
and show and his passion for the costly and 
molly plunged her hands into the mule. 
