"Oh, yes, some of the pictures were very interesting, but I could hardly breathe on account of the smoke."
"Oh, youse'll git used t' dat," declared Jimmy. "If youse took a cigarette yerself youse wouldn't mind it."
"I'm afraid that wouldn't make much difference. But it's nice out here."
"Wait till I see if I kin spot Mike," proposed Jimmy, and they took their position near the doorway. Soon Bulldog and his crony came out.
"Hey, Conroy," began Jimmy, stepping up to the larger youth. "What'd youse do wid me money?"
"Your money? What's de kid talkin' about?" and Mike turned to Bulldog.
"Search me," was the answer. "Hit him a poke an' come on."
"You hit me an' I'll tell dat cop over dere," threatened Jimmy, motioning toward a bluecoat. "Youse swiped some chink offen me, Mike, an' I want it."
"Aw, fergit it," advised the other. "Who says I took any of your money? You never had any."
"I had more'n a dollar an' a half when I was here t' de show last time, an' youse an' Bulldog sat behind me. When I come out I didn't have a red cent left."