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fascination in watching his claw-like tiny fingers, that moved so swiftly, performing tricks that stupefied Eddie. "Gosh, you make 'em act just as if they was alive!" he uttered. Toby grinned. Praise was meat and drink to him, even from a boy.

He taught him euchre, nap, and a dozen other games. Eddie took to traveling in the caravan by day, relieving his parents of his presence. Mrs. Pratt rejoiced in her new-found peace, which would have been short-lived had she suspected how her son's hours were spent. She thought Toby an unpleasant little being, but harmiess enough: and the dwarf had cautioned the boy to hold his tongue. The unsavory friendship grew apace.

They had one strong feeling in common—dislike of Hugh Russell. Eddie had hated him from the first: for the dwarf, Hugh had had no existence until he learned the boy had taken his place in the ring. Harry and Joe had lost no opportunity of telling him of the success of the turn, finding enjoyment, when Toby was particularly offensive, in hinting broadly that his absence was not missed. "Don't you worry about bein' knocked out," they would say, kindly; "the crowd's not askin' anything better than young Hugh. Why he even makes us laugh!"

Toby had squirmed under this, comforting himself by the knowledge that they liked annoying him. Probably it was just one of their yarns—they had many. He asked Eddie eagerly about Hugh's turn, receiving little consolation. Eddie said sourly that the people were dotty about Hugh. "It's them baby curls of his," he added, with scorn.

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