ke out. An' you know thass one thing,
Mistoo Itchlin, whilce they got life they got hope; and hence I
ente'tain the same."

They had reached that flagged area without covering or inclosure, before
the third of the three old market-houses, where those dealers in the
entire miscellanies of a housewife's equipment, excepting only stoves
and furniture, spread their wares and fabrics in the open weather before
the Bazar market rose to give them refuge. He grew suddenly fierce.

"But any'ow I don't care! I had the spunk to ass 'im, an' he din 'ave
the spunk to dischawge me! All he can do; 'tis to shake the fis' of
impatience." He was looking into his companion's face, as they walked,
with an eye distended with defiance.

"Look out!" exclaimed Richling, reaching a hurried hand to draw him
aside. Narcisse swerved just in time to avoid stepping into a pile of
crockery, but in so doing went full into the arms of a stately female
figure dressed in the crispest French calico and embarrassed with
numerous small packages of dry goods. The bundles flew hither and yon.
Narcisse tried to catch the largest as he saw it going, but only sent it
farther than it would have gone, and as it struck the ground it burst
like a pomegranate. But the contents were white: little thin,
square-folded fractions of barred jaconet and white flannel; rolls of
slender white lutestring ribbon; very narrow papers of tiny white pearl
buttons, minute white worsted socks, spools of white floss, cards of
safety-pins, pieces of white castile soap, etc.

"_Mille pardons, madame!_" exclaimed Narcisse; "I make you a thousan'
poddons, madam!"

He was ill-prepared for the majestic wrath that flashed from the eyes
and radiated from the whole dilating, and subsiding, and reexpanding,
and rising, and stiffening form of Kate Ristofalo!

"Officerr," she panted,--for instantly there was a crowd, and a man with
the silver-crescent badge was switching the assemblage on the legs with
his cane to make room,--"Officerr," she gasped, levelling her tremulous
finger at Narcisse, "arrist that man!"

"Mrs. Ristofalo!" exclaimed Richling, "don't do that! It was all an
accident! Why, don't you see it's Narcisse,--my friend?"

"Yer frind rised his hand to sthrike me, sur, he did! Yer frind rised
his hand to sthrike me, he did!" And up she went and down she went,
shortening and lengthening, swelling and decreasing. "Yes, yes, I
know yer frind; indeed I do! I paid two dollars and