It brings out the natural
wolf in her like nothing else does. It was being proved this night all
you'd want to see anything proved. If the men got near enough and won a
bet they'd think it was a good joke and stick round till they lost it.
Not so my own sex. Every last one of 'em saw herself growing rich on
Cousin Egbert's money--and let the Belgians look out for themselves.
Mrs. Tracy Bangs, for instance, fought her way out of the mob, looking
as wild as any person in a crazy house, choking twenty-eight dollars to
death in her two fists that she win off two bits. She crowds this onto
Tracy and makes him swear by the sacred memory of his mother that he
will positively not give her back a cent of it to gamble with if the
fever comes on her again--not even if she begs him to on her bended
knees. And fifteen minutes later the poor little shark nearly has
hysterics because Tracy won't give her back just five of it to gamble
again with. Sure! A very feminine woman she is.
Tracy is a pretty good little sport himself. He says, No, and that'll be
all, please, not only on account of the sacred memory of his mother but
because the poor Belgians has got to catch it going if they don't catch
it coming; and he's beat it out to a booth and bought the
twenty-five-dollar gold clock with chimes, with the other three dollars
going for the dozen bottles of Snake Oil and the twenty street-car
tickets.
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