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had an old slick counterfeit quarter that warn't no good because the brass showed

through the silver a little, and it wouldn't pass nohow, even if the brass didn't

show, because it was so slick it felt greasy, and so that would tell on it every time.

(I reckoned I wouldn't say nothing about the dollar I got from the judge.) I

I said it was pretty bad money, but maybe the hair-ball would take it, because

maybe it wouldn't know the difference. Jim smelt it, and bit it, and rubbed it,

and said he would manage so the hair-ball would think it was good. He said he

would split open a raw Irish potato and stick the quarter in between and keep it

there all night, and next morning you couldn't see no brass, and it wouldn't feel

greasy no more, and so anybody in town would take it in a minute, let alone a

hair-ball. Well, I knowed a potato would do that, before, but I had forgot it.

Jim put the quarter under the hair-ball and got down and listened again.

This time he said the ssssssssss

hair-ball was all right. ssssssssss

He said it would tell ssssssssss

my whole fortune if I ssssssssss

wanted it to. I says, ssssssssss

go on. So the hair-ball ssssssssss

talked to Jim, and Jim ssssssssss

told it to me. He says: ssssssssss

"Yo' ole father doan'

know, yit, what he's ssssssssss

a-gwyne to do. Some- ssssssssss

times he spec he'll go ssssssssss

'way, en den agin he ssssssssss

spec he'll stay. De bes' ssssssssss

way is to res' easy en let de ole man take his own way. Dey's two angels hoverin'

roun' 'bout him. One uv 'em is white en shiny, en 'tother one is black. De

white one gits him to go right, a little while, den de black one sail in en bust it

all up. A body can't tell, yit, which one gwyne to fetch him at de las'. But

you is all right. You gwyne to have considable trouble in yo' life, en considable

joy. Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, en sometimes you gwyne to git sick;

but every time you's gwyne to git well agin. Dey's two gals flyin' 'bout you

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