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coaxed: and the screams grew louder. Finally she collapsed under her own efforts, slipped to the floor and began to sob helplessly.

"There, now!" Mrs. Dan looked severely at her husband. "She'11 be sick for days, like she was last time."

"Aw, Nita—Daddy's little girl!" said the big man anxiously. "You let Daddy lay you down on your own bed." He picked her up, a limp, tear-drenched bundie. "Stop now—how're you ever goin' into the ring tonight if you make yourself ill like this?"

"Let him stay!" came between sobs and hiccoughs.

Husband and wife exchanged glances.

"Oh—keep the boy a few days, Dan," pleaded Polly. "That'11 give you time to decide—it don't tie you down forever, you know."

Big Dan struggled with himself.

"Oh, well—have it your own way," he submitted, sourly. "You can go an' get him, though: I got no time. All right, Nita—you can have him for a bit, 's long as he keeps out of my way." He put her down. She stood with downcast eyes, still catching her breath painfully, her hair a wild black tangle about her face: and at the sight Big Dan became as pulp. He gathered her up in his arms again.

"Now, don't you worry, Daddy's little darlin'," he said, anxiously.

"You—you're cross!"

"Not me! You just let Daddy wash your face, an' then you'11 have your breakfast."

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