“Ah’s glad yoh hit ’em hahd, Pro,” said Mr. Fox, without warming. “Ah wah jest a-wishin’ Ah done had ez much faith in yoh frien’ ez yoh did.”
“How come, Clarence?” asked Pro, with a sudden sinking suspicion. “Didn’ yoh plunge?”
“Hadn’ no faith a-tall,” asserted Clarence.
“Didn’ yoh win nothin’?” asked Pro, unbelief, suspicion, crushed hopes, all concentrated in his voice.
“Jes’ li’l’ pikin’ bet, Pro,” said Mr. Fox resignedly. “Ah bin kickin’ mahsef. Ah mought a-win ’nuff to be goin’ norf wif yoh. But Ah lack faith. Ah lack faith perdigious.”
“Yoh win nuffin a-tall?” Pro reiterated, his voice expressing his ebbing hope.
“Ah win jes’ twenty dollah,” said Mr. Fox positively. “Niggah on’y lay me ten to one, an’ Ah bet on’y two dollah.”
He hesitated, waiting as if expecting passionate contradiction, and added:
“Hyah yoh bit foh de tip.”
He peeled a five-dollar bill from a huge roll extracted carelessly from a trousers pocket and flipped it toward Pro.