gled with a tattooed man. Not,"
Mr. Poodle hastily added, "with a _real_ tattooed man! Not by no
means! Far from it! _He's only half done!_ Git me? His legs is
finished; and I'm give to understand that the Chinese dragon on his
back is gettin' near the end of its tail. There _may_ be a risin' sun
on his chest, and a snake drawed out on his waist; of that I've heard
rumors, but I ain't had no reports. Not," said Mr. Poddle,
impressively, "what you might call undenigeable reports. And Richard,"
he whispered, in great excitement and contempt, "that there half-cooked
freak won't be done for a year! He's bein' worked over on the
installment plan. And I'm give to understand that she'll wait! Oh,
wimmen!" the Dog-faced Man apostrophized. "Took by shapes and
complexions----"

"Mr. Poddle, excuse me," the boy interrupted, diffidently, "but your
eyebrow----"

"Thanks," Mr. Poddle groaned, his frenzy collapsing. "As I was about
to say, wimmen is like arithmetic; there ain't a easy sum in the book."

"Mr. Poddle!"

"Thanks," said Mr. Poddle, in deep disgust. "Am I at it again?
O'erwhelming grief! This here love will be the ruin of me. 'Bank
Cashier Defaulted For a Woman.' I've lost more priceless strands since
I seen that charming creature than I'll get back in a year. I've bit
'em off! I've tore 'em out! If this here goes on I'll be a Hairless
Wonder in a month. 'Suicided For Love.' Same thing exactly. And
what's worse," he continued, dejectedly, "the objeck of my adoration
don't look at it right. She takes me for a common audience. No regard
for talent. No appreciation for hair in the wrong place. 'Genius
Jilted By A Factory Girl.' And she takes that manufactured article of
a tattooed man for a regular platform attraction! Don't seem to
_know_, Richard, that freaks is born, not made. What's fame, anyhow?"

The boy did not know.

"Why, cuss me!" the Dog-faced Man exploded, "she treats me as if I was
dead-headed into the Show!"

"Excuse me, but----"

"Thanks. God knows, Richard, I ain't in love with her throat and
stummick. It ain't because the one's unequalled for resistin'
razor-edged steel and the other stands unrivalled in its capacity for
holdin' cold metal. It ain't her talent, Richard. No, it ain't her
talent. It ain't her beauty. It ain't even her fame. It ain't so
much her massive proportions. It's just the way she darns stockings.
Just the way she sits up there on the platf