nevitable voice of brass. When she vanished, men seated
at the tables near the front applauded loudly, pounding the polished
wood with their beer glasses. She returned attired in less gown, and
sang again. She received another enthusiastic encore. She reappeared
in still less gown and danced. The deafening rumble of glasses and
clapping of hands that followed her exit indicated an overwhelming
desire to have her come on for the fourth time, but the curiosity of
the audience was not gratified.

Maggie was pale. From her eyes had been plucked all look of
self-reliance. She leaned with a dependent air toward her companion.
She was timid, as if fearing his anger or displeasure. She seemed to
beseech tenderness of him.

Pete's air of distinguished valor had grown upon him until it
threatened stupendous dimensions. He was infinitely gracious to the
girl. It was apparent to her that his condescension was a marvel.

He could appear to strut even while sitting still and he showed that he
was a lion of lordly characteristics by the air with which he spat.

With Maggie gazing at him wonderingly, he took pride in commanding the
waiters who were, however, indifferent or deaf.

"Hi, you, git a russle on yehs! What deh hell yehs lookin' at? Two
more beehs, d'yeh hear?"

He leaned back and critically regarded the person of a girl with a
straw-colored wig who upon the stage was flinging her heels in somewhat
awkward imitation of a well-known danseuse.

At times Maggie told Pete long confidential tales of her former home
life, dwelling upon the escapades of the other members of the family
and the difficulties she had to combat in order to obtain a degree of
comfort. He responded in tones of philanthropy. He pressed her arm
with an air of reassuring proprietorship.

"Dey was damn jays," he said, denouncing the mother and brother.

The sound of the music which, by the efforts of the frowsy-headed
leader, drifted to her ears through the smoke-filled atmosphere, made
the girl dream. She thought of her former Rum Alley environment and
turned to regard Pete's strong protecting fists. She thought of the
collar and cuff manufactory and the eternal moan of the proprietor:
"What een hell do you sink I pie fife dolla a week for? Play? No, py
damn." She contemplated Pete's man-subduing eyes and noted that wealth
and prosperity was indicated by his clothes. She imagined a future,
rose-tinted, because of its distance from