"You're crazy with the heat," said Miss Hoag. "What I've got out of this business, I've sweated for." Then the Baron de Ross executed a pirouette of tiny self. "Worth your weight in gold! Worth your weight in gold!" "If you don't behave yourself, you little peewee, I'll leave you to plow home through the sand alone. If it wasn't for me playing nurse-girl to you, you'd have to be hiring a keeper. You better behave." "Worth your weight in gold! Blow us to a ice-cream cone. Eh, Ossi?" The crowd had sifted out; all but one of the center aisle of grill arc-lights flickered out, leaving the Freak Palace to a spluttering kind of gloom. The Snake-charmer, of a thousand iridescencies, wound the last of her devitalized cobras down into its painted chest. The Siamese Twins untwisted out of their embrace and went each his way. The Princess Albino wove her cotton hair into a plait, finishing it with a rapidly wound bit of thread. An attendant trundled the Ossified Man through a rear door. Jastrow the Granite Jaw flopped on his derby, slightly askew, and strolled over toward that same door, hands in pocket. He was thewed like an ox. Short and as squattily packed down as a Buddha, the great sinews of his strength bulged in his short neck and in the backs of the calves of his legs, even rippled beneath his coat. It was as if a compress had reduced him from great height down to his tightest compactness, concentrating the strength of him. Even in repose, the undershot jaw was plunged forward, the jowls bonily defined. "Worth her weight in gold! Blow us to a ice-cream cone. Eh, Jastrow? She's worth her weight in gold." Passing within reach of where the Baron de Ross danced to his ditty of reiteration, Jastrow the Granite Jaw reached up and in through the rail, capturing one of the jiggling ankles, elevating the figure of the Baron de Ross to a high-flung torch. "Lay off that noise," said Jastrow the Granite Jaw, threatening to dangle him head downward. "Lay off, or I'll drown you like a kitten!" With an agility that could have swung him from bough to bough, the Baron de Ross somersaulted astride the rear of Jastrow the Granite Jaw's great neck, pounding little futile fists against the bulwark of head. "Leggo me! Leggo!" "Gr-r-r-r! I'll step on you and squash you like a caterpillar." "Don't hurt him, Mr. Jastrow! Don't let him fall off backwards. He is so little. Teenie'll catch you if you fall, honey. Teenie's here in back of you." With another double twist, the Baron de Ross somersaulted backward off the shoulder of his captor, landing upright in the outstretched skirts of Miss Hoag. "Yah, yah!" he cried, dancing in the net of skirt and waggling his hands from his ears. "Yah, yah!" The Granite Jaw smoothed down the outraged rear of his head, eyes rolling and smile terrible. "Wow!" he said, making a false feint toward him. The Baron, shrill with hysteria, plunged into a fold of Miss Hoag's skirt.