‘Nah. Just get near. Your fuses take over from there. This is the world’s most diabetic dog.’
She looked down from his face to the statuette and giggled. ‘I’ll keep it always,’ she said. ‘Hip, you’re getting that nasty sparkle stuff all over your jacket. Let’s give it away.’
They marched up and across and down and around the tinsel stands in search of a suitable beneficiary, and found him at last—a solemn urchin of seven or so, who methodically sucked the memory of butter and juice from a well-worn corncob. ‘This is for you,’ carolled Janie. The child ignored the extended gift and kept his frighteningly adult eyes on her face.
Hip laughed. ‘No sale!’ He squatted beside the boy. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. Will you haul it away for a dollar?’
No response. The boy sucked his corncob and kept watching Janie.
‘Tough customer,’ grinned Hip.
Suddenly Janie shuddered. ‘Oh, let’s leave him alone,’ she said, her merriment gone.
‘He can’t outbid me,’ said Hip cheerfully. He set the statue down by the boy’s scuffed shoes and pushed a dollar bill into the rip which looked most like a pocket. ‘Pleasure to do business with you, sir,’ he said and followed Janie, who had already moved off.
‘Regular chatterbox,’ laughed Hip as he caught up with her. He looked back. Half a block away, the child still stared at Janie. ‘Looks like you’ve made a lifelong impress— Janie! ’
Janie had stopped dead, eyes wide and straight ahead, mouth a triangle of shocked astonishment. ‘The little devil! ‘ she breathed. ‘At his age!’ She whirled and looked back.