an' weavin' 'round on the stage, an' after a few
minutes I turned an' looked at Polly. He, he, he, he!"

"David Harum," cried Mrs. Bixbee, "ef you're goin' to discribe any more
o' them scand'lous goin's on I sh'll take my victuals into the kitchen.
_I_ didn't see no more of 'em," she added to Mrs. Cullom and John,
"after that fust trollop appeared."

"I don't believe she did," said David, "fer when I turned she set there
with her eyes shut tighter 'n a drum, an' her mouth shut too so's her
nose an' chin most come together, an' her face was red enough so 't a
streak o' red paint 'd 'a' made a white mark on it. 'Polly,' I says,
'I'm afraid you ain't gettin' the wuth o' your money.'

"'David Harum,' she says, with her mouth shut all but a little place in
the corner toward me, 'if you don't take me out o' this place, I'll go
without ye,' she says.

"'Don't you think you c'd stan' it a little longer?' I says. 'Mebbe
they've sent home fer their clo'es,' I says. He, he, he, he! But with
that she jes' give a hump to start, an' I see she meant bus'nis. When
Polly Bixbee," said David impressively, "puts that foot o' her'n _down_
somethin's got to sqush, an' don't you fergit it." Mrs. Bixbee made no
acknowledgment of this tribute to her strength of character. John looked
at David.

"Yes," he said, with a solemn bend of the head, as if in answer to a
question, "I squshed. I says to her, 'All right. Don't make no
disturbance more'n you c'n help, an' jes' put your hank'chif up to your
nose 's if you had the nosebleed,' an' we squeezed out of the seats, an'
sneaked up the aisle, an' by the time we got out into the entry I guess
my face was as red as Polly's. It couldn't 'a' ben no redder," he added.

"You got a putty fair color as a gen'ral thing," remarked Mrs. Bixbee
dryly.

"Yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am, I expect that's so," he assented, "but I got an
extra coat o' tan follerin' you out o' that theater. When we got out
into the entry one o' them fellers that stands 'round steps up to me an'
says, 'Ain't your ma feelin' well?' he says. 'Her feelin's has ben a
trifle rumpled up,' I says, 'an' that gen'ally brings on the nosebleed,'
an' then," said David, looking over Mrs. Bixbee's head, "the feller went
an' leaned up agin the wall."

"David Harum!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee, "that's a downright _lie_. You
never spoke to a soul, an'--an'--ev'rybody knows 't I ain't more 'n four
years older 'n you be."

"Wa'al, you see, Polly," her b