BITS OF LIFE. 
93 
w i t. h u s, and 
nobody’ll be on. 
T h at ’ s f a i r. 
Brady.” 
“ Come on,” 
agreed the Kid, 
hotly. And then 
he stopped sud- 
den 1 y i n his 
tracks and looked 
with an odd smile 
at Molly’s dis- 
tressed and 
anxious face. 
“No use,” he 
said, grimly. 
They’re the 
Hethcote sables, 
all right. You’ll 
have to turn ’em 
over, Moll, but 
they ain’t too 
good for you if 
they cost a 
million.” 
Molly, with anguish in her face, hung upon 
the Kid’s arm. 
“ Oh, Kiddy, you’ve broke my heart,” she 
said. “ I was so proud of you — and now 
they’ll do you — and where’s our happiness 
gone ? ” 
“ Go home,” said the Kid, wildly. “ Come 
on, Ransom ; take the furs. Let’s get away 
from here. Wait a minute— I’ve a good 
mind to — no, I’ll be dashed if I can do it — run 
along, Moll, I’m ready, Ransom.” 
Around the corner of a lumber-yard came 
Policeman Kohen, on his way to his beat 
along the river. The detective signed to 
him for assistance. Kohen joined the group. 
Ransom explained. 
“ Sure,” said Kohen. “ 1 hear about dose 
s.aples dat vas stole. You say you have dem 
here ? ” 
Policeman Kohen took the end of Molly’s 
late scarf in his hands and looked at it closely, 
“ Once,” he said, “ I sold furs in Sixth 
Avenue. Yes, dese are saples. Dey come 
from Alaska. Dis scarf is worth twelve 
dollars and dis muff ” 
“ Biff 1 ” came the palm of the Kid’s power- 
ful hand upon the policeman’s mouth. Kohen 
staggered and rallied. Molly screamed. The 
detective threw himself upon Brady and, with 
Kohen’s aid, got the nippers on his wrist. 
“ The scarf is worth twelve dollars, and the 
muff is worth nine dollars,” persisted the 
policeman. “ What is dis talk about thou- 
sand-dollar saples ? ” 
The Kid sat upon a pile of lumber and his 
face turned dark red. 
“ Correct, Solomski ! ” he declared, 
viciously. “ I paid twenty-two dollars for 
the set. I’d rather have got six months and 
not have told it. Me, the swell that wouldn’t 
look at anything cheap ! I’m a plain bluffer. 
Moll, my salary couldn’t spell sables in 
Russian.” 
Molly cast herself upon his neck. 
“ What do I care for all the sables and money 
in the world ! ” she cried. “ It’s my Kiddy 
I want. Oh, you dear, stuck-up, crazy 
blockhead ! ” 
“ You can take dose nippers off,” said 
Kohen to the detective. “ Before I leaf de 
station de report come in dat de lady vind 
her saples — hanging in her wardrobe. Young- 
man, T excuse you dat punch in my vace — 
dis von time.” 
Ransom gave Molly her furs. Her eyes 
were smiling upon the Kid. She wound the 
scarf and threw the end over her left shoulder 
with a duchess’s grace. 
“ A goupleof young vools,” said Policeman 
Kohen to Ransom. “ Come on away.” 
SHE THREW THE SCARF OVER HER SHOULDER 
WITH A DUCHESS’S GRACE.” 
POLICEMAN KOHEN. 
