snort and beller. Now, see
here, you moke, when we git in you stand behind where I stand, and
don't you begin to beller, too. If you do I'll shake you--I'll give
you the clean lake breeze. If you walk up to the mark I'll get you
into the league nine. You'll be their man to hoodoo the other ball
clubs."

"Yessah!"

"You can't say nothing nohow, so all you've got to do is to see me face
the music."

"Yessah!"

"There's the house now. They say he thought a powerful lot of her. Is
there a saloon anywhere near?"

The twain look in vain for a beer sign, and resume their journey. They
ascend the steps.

"There ain't no yawl up here! This is worse than the Africa. I
believe I ain't so solid with myself as I was before she founder. Open
that valve!"

Noah pulls the bell. There is no retreat now. Faces are peering from
every window. Museum managers are on guard at the ends of the street.
The story of Corkey and his mascot is on every tongue in Chicago.

Esther Lockwin opens the door. Corkey had hoped he might have a moment
of grace. At best there is a hindrance in his voice. Now he is
speechless.

"Step in," she says.

He rolls a huge quid of tobacco to the other side of his face, and then
falls in a second panic. He introduces his first finger in his mouth
as if it were a grappling iron and extracts the black tobacco. He
trots down a step or two and heaves the tobacco into the street,
resisting, at the last moment, a temptation to hit a mark. He returns
up the steps, a bunchy figure, in an enormously heavy, chinchilla,
short coat, with blue pantaloons,

"Step in," says the voice pleasantly.

The action has begun as Corkey has not wished. He is both angry and
contused. A spasm seizes his throat. He strangles. He coughs. He
sneezes.

There is an opening of street doors on this alarming report, and Corkey
pushes Noah before him into Esther Lockwin's parlors. The man's
jet-black hair is wet with perspiration. The boy strives to stand
behind, but Corkey feels more secure if the companion be held in front.

"Let me take your hats," she says calmly. She goes to the hall-tree
with the hats. She shuts the door as she re-enters.

"Take those seats," she says.

But Corkey must pull himself together. This affair is compromising the
great Corkey himself. He does not sit. He must begin.

"Me and this coon, madam, we suppose you want to hear how Mr. Lockwin
cashed in--how he--"

"You, o