AS SOON as the new tober had been reached next morning, and the tents set up, Beef and I strolled round to attempt to see Gypsy Margot. We found her sitting in her little tent laying out the peculiar paraphernalia of her trade, mumbling indistinctly to herself all the time. “Good morning,” said Beef pleasantly. “I wonder if we could have another little talk with you. That is, of course, if you’re not too busy.” The old woman looked up at us suspiciously without anwering. “I said,” began Beef in a considerably louder voice, “I wonder if we could …” “All right, I’m not deaf,” said old Margot sharply. “You don’t need to shout at me.” Beef took a seat and leaned towards her. “You’ve been with the circus a long time,” he said in what I had learned was his “humoring” voice. “What if I have?” demanded the old woman truculently. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything,” said Beef pacifically. “I was just making a statement, that’s all.” “Well, if you didn’t mean anything,”
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