De school is too small, and some of de children got no place to sit down
in. Ve got to sell sometings, and maybe now ve don't vant dem images.'
And so I buy dem two and some olt vestments dat my Masie make so good as
new, vid patches. Now, vot can I do vid dis--?"

Again the door was burst open, shutting off all possibility for
conversation. Bobby's voice had now reached the volume of a fog-horn.
"What do ye take us fur out here--lobsters? Dad and I can't wait all
day. He's got to go down to Lafayette Place for a trunk."

Kling looked at his companion, as if to see what effect the talk had had
upon him, and broke out into a suffocating chuckle. "Dot's vot it is all
day long--don't you yonder I go crazy? First it is sideboards and den it
is vooden saints. Here you, Bobby! Come inside vunce! I vant to ask you
sometings."

"Say the rest, Skeesicks," returned the boy, eying the stranger.

"Has your mudder got empty dot room yet?"

"Yep--the shyster got to swearin', and the mother wouldn't stand for it
and she fired him. We ain't keepin' no house o' refuge nor no station
parlor fer bums. Holy Moses! look at the guy that's been robbin' a
church! And see the nose on him all busted! Have ye started them mugs?"

Kling cleared the air with his fat hands as the boy made for the door,
and turned to his visitor once more. "Dot boy make me deaf vid his noise
like a fire-engine! Now, vunce more. Vat shall I do vid dis image?"

"I give it up," observed the stranger, passing his hand over the head
and down its side. "I am not very much on saints--wooden ones, I mean.
He seems a good deal out of place here. Why buy such things at all, and
why sell them? But that, of course, is not your point of view. I would
send it back to the good father, if I were you, and have him put it
behind the altar if he is ashamed to put it in front. Holy things belong
to holy places. But I am already taking up too much of your time. Thank
you very much for the money. It comes at an opportune moment. I shall
come in once in a while to see you and, if you are willing, to talk to
you."

"But you don't say nudding about Kitty's room. Vait till--oh, dere you
are, you darlin' girl! You mind de store, Masie. Now you come vid me and
I show you de finest vomans you never see in your whole life!"

Chapter III

Kitty Cleary's wide sidewalk, littered with trunks, and her narrow,
choked-up office, its window hung with theatre bills and chowder-party
p