impulse; "and I'd like to give you a good time--for
Millie's sake."

The boy was still doubtful. "I had better go home," he said.

"Oh, now, don't you be afraid of me, Dick. I'll take you home after
the show. We got lots of time. Aw, come on!"

It occurred to the boy that Providence had ordered events in answer to
his prayer.

"Thank you," he said.

"You'll have a good time," the acrobat promised. "They say Flannigan's
got a good show."

They made their way to the Burlesque. Flannigan's Forty Flirts there
held the boards. "Girls! Just Girls! Grass Widows and Merry Maids!
No Nonsense About 'Em! Just Girls! Girls!" The foul and tawdry
aspect of the entrance oppressed the child. He felt some tragic
foreboding....

Within it was dark to the boy's eyes. The air was hot and
foul--stagnant, exhausted: the stale exhalation of a multitude of lungs
which vice was rotting; tasting of their very putridity. A mist of
tobacco smoke filled the place--was still rising in bitter, stifling
clouds. There was a nauseating smell of beer and sweat and
disinfectants. The boy's foot felt the unspeakable slime of the floor:
he tingled with disgust.

An illustrated song was in listless progress. The light, reflected
from the screen, revealed a throng of repulsive faces, stretching, row
upon row, into the darkness of the rear, into the shadows of the
roof--sickly and pimpled and bloated flesh: vicious faces, hopeless,
vacuous, diseased. And these were the faces that leered and writhed in
the boy's dreams of hell. Here, present and tangible, were gathered
all his terrors. He was in the very midst of sin.

The song was ended. The footlights flashed high. There was a burst of
blatant music--a blare: unfeeling and discordant. It grated
agonizingly. The boy's sensitive ear rebelled. He shuddered....
Screen and curtain disappeared. In the brilliant light beyond, a group
of brazen women began to cavort and sing. Their voices were harsh and
out of tune. At once the faces in the shadow started into eager
interest--the eyes flashing, with some strangely evil passion, unknown
to the child, but acutely felt.... There was a shrill shout of
welcome--raised by the women, without feeling. Down the stage, her
person exposed, bare-armed, throwing shameless glances, courting the
sensual stare, grinning as though in joyous sympathy with the evil of
the place, came a woman with blinding blonde hair.

It was the boy's mo