In a hilarious hall there were twenty-eight tables and twenty-
eight women and a crowd of smoking men. Valiant noise was made on
a stage at the end of the hall by an orchestra composed of men who
looked as if they had just happened in. Soiled waiters ran to and
fro, swooping down like hawks on the unwary in the throng;
clattering along the aisles with trays covered with glasses;
stumbling over women's skirts and charging two prices for
everything but beer, all with a swiftness that blurred the view of
the cocoanut palms and dusty monstrosities painted upon the walls
of the room. A bouncer, with an immense load of business upon his
hands, plunged about in the crowd, dragging bashful strangers to
prominent chairs, ordering waiters here and there and quarreling
furiously with men who wanted to sing with the orchestra.
The usual smoke cloud was present, but so dense that heads and
arms seemed entangled in it. The rumble of conversation was
replaced by a roar. Plenteous oaths heaved through the air.
The room rang with the shrill voices of women bubbling o'er with
drink-laughter. The chief element in the music of the orchestra
was speed. The musicians played in intent fury. A woman was
singing and smiling upon the stage, but no one took notice of her.
The rate at which the piano, cornet and violins were going, seemed
to impart wildness to the half-drunken crowd. Beer glasses were
emptied at a gulp and conversation became a rapid chatter.
The smoke eddied and swirled like a shadowy river hurrying toward
some unseen falls. Pete and Maggie entered the hall and took chairs
at a table near the door. The woman who was seated there made
an attempt to occupy Pete's attention and, failing, went away.
Three weeks had passed since the girl had left home. The air of
spaniel-like dependence had been magnified and showed its direct
effect in the peculiar off-handedness and ease of Pete's ways toward her.
She followed Pete's eyes with hers, anticipating with smiles
gracious looks from him.
A woman of brilliance and audacity, accompanied by a mere boy,
came into the place and took seats near them.
At once Pete sprang to his feet, his face beaming with glad surprise.
"By Gawd, there's Nellie," he cried.
He went over to the table and held out an eager hand to the woman.
"Why, hello, Pete, me boy, how are you," said she, giving him her fingers.
Maggie took instant note of the woman. She perceived that her
black dress fitted her to perfection. Her linen collar and cuffs
were spotless. Tan gloves were stretched over her well-shaped
hands. A hat of a prevailing fashion perched jauntily upon her
dark hair. She wore no jewelry and was painted with no apparent
paint. She looked clear-eyed through the stares of the men.
"Sit down, and call your lady-friend over," she said cordially to Pete.
At his beckoning Maggie came and sat between Pete and the mere boy.
"I thought yeh were gone away fer good," began Pete, at once.
"When did yeh git back? How did dat Buff'lo bus'ness turn out?"
The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Well, he didn't have as
many stamps as he tried to make out, so I shook him, that's all."
"Well, I'm glad teh see yehs back in deh city," said Pete,
with awkward gallantry.
He and the woman entered into a long conversation, exchanging
reminiscences of days together. Maggie sat still, unable to
formulate an intelligent sentence upon the conversation and
painfully aware of it.
She saw Pete's eyes sparkle as he gazed upon the handsome
stranger. He listened smilingly to all she said. The woman was
familiar with all his affairs, asked him about mutual friends,
and knew the amount of his salary.
She paid no attention to Maggie, looking toward her once or
twice and apparently seeing the wall beyond.
The mere boy was sulky. In the beginning he had welcomed with
acclamations the additions.
"Let's all have a drink! What'll you take, Nell? And you,
Miss what's-your-name. Have a drink, Mr. -----, you, I mean."
He had shown a sprightly desire to do the talking for the company
and tell all about his family. In a loud voice he declaimed
on various topics. He assumed a patronizing air toward Pete.
As Maggie was silent, he paid no attention to her. He made a
great show of lavishing wealth upon the woman of brilliance
"Do keep still, Freddie! You gibber like an ape, dear," said the
woman to him. She turned away and devoted her attention to Pete.
"We'll have many a good time together again, eh?"
"Sure, Mike," said Pete, enthusiastic at once.
"Say," whispered she, leaning forward, "let's go over to
Billie's and have a heluva time."
"Well, it's dis way! See?" said Pete. I got dis lady frien' here."
"Oh, t'hell with her," argued the woman.
Pete appeared disturbed.
"All right," said she, nodding her head at him. "All right for you!
We'll see the next time you ask me to go anywheres with you."
"Say," he said, beseechingly, "come wid me a minit an' I'll tell yer why."
The woman waved her hand.
"Oh, that's all right, you needn't explain, you know. You wouldn't
come merely because you wouldn't come, that's all there is of it."
To Pete's visible distress she turned to the mere boy,
bringing him speedily from a terrific rage. He had been debating
whether it would be the part of a man to pick a quarrel with Pete,
or would he be justified in striking him savagely with his beer
glass without warning. But he recovered himself when the woman
turned to renew her smilings. He beamed upon her with an
expression that was somewhat tipsy and inexpressibly tender.
"Say, shake that Bowery jay," requested he, in a loud whisper.
"Freddie, you are so droll," she replied.
Pete reached forward and touched the woman on the arm.
"Come out a minit while I tells yeh why I can't go wid yer.
Yer doin' me dirt, Nell! I never taut ye'd do me dirt, Nell.
Come on, will yer?" He spoke in tones of injury.
"Why, I don't see why I should be interested in your
explanations," said the woman, with a coldness that seemed to
reduce Pete to a pulp.
His eyes pleaded with her. "Come out a minit while I tells yeh."
The woman nodded slightly at Maggie and the mere boy, "'Scuse me."
The mere boy interrupted his loving smile and turned a shrivelling
glare upon Pete. His boyish countenance flushed and he spoke,
in a whine, to the woman:
"Oh, I say, Nellie, this ain't a square deal, you know. You aren't
goin' to leave me and go off with that duffer, are you? I should think--"
"Why, you dear boy, of course I'm not," cried the woman,
affectionately. She bended over and whispered in his ear.
He smiled again and settled in his chair as if resolved
to wait patiently.
As the woman walked down between the rows of tables, Pete was
at her shoulder talking earnestly, apparently in explanation.
The woman waved her hands with studied airs of indifference.
The doors swung behind them, leaving Maggie and the mere boy
seated at the table.
Maggie was dazed. She could dimly perceive that something
stupendous had happened. She wondered why Pete saw fit to
remonstrate with the woman, pleading for forgiveness with his eyes.
She thought she noted an air of submission about her leonine Pete.
She was astounded.
The mere boy occupied himself with cock-tails and a cigar. He
was tranquilly silent for half an hour. Then he bestirred himself
"Well," he said, sighing, "I knew this was the way it would be."
There was another stillness. The mere boy seemed to be musing.
"She was pulling m'leg. That's the whole amount of it," he
said, suddenly. "It's a bloomin' shame the way that girl does.
Why, I've spent over two dollars in drinks to-night. And she goes
off with that plug-ugly who looks as if he had been hit in the face
with a coin-die. I call it rocky treatment for a fellah like me.
Here, waiter, bring me a cock-tail and make it damned strong."
Maggie made no reply. She was watching the doors. "It's a
mean piece of business," complained the mere boy. He explained to
her how amazing it was that anybody should treat him in such a
manner. "But I'll get square with her, you bet. She won't get far
ahead of yours truly, you know," he added, winking. "I'll tell her
plainly that it was bloomin' mean business. And she won't come it
over me with any of her 'now-Freddie-dears.' She thinks my name is
Freddie, you know, but of course it ain't. I always tell these
people some name like that, because if they got onto your right name
they might use it sometime. Understand? Oh, they don't fool me much."
Maggie was paying no attention, being intent upon the doors.
The mere boy relapsed into a period of gloom, during which he
exterminated a number of cock-tails with a determined air, as if
replying defiantly to fate. He occasionally broke forth into
sentences composed of invectives joined together in a long string.
The girl was still staring at the doors. After a time
the mere boy began to see cobwebs just in front of his nose.
He spurred himself into being agreeable and insisted upon her
having a charlotte-russe and a glass of beer.
"They's gone," he remarked, "they's gone." He looked at her
through the smoke wreaths. "Shay, lil' girl, we mightish well make
bes' of it. You ain't such bad-lookin' girl, y'know. Not half
bad. Can't come up to Nell, though. No, can't do it! Well, I
should shay not! Nell fine-lookin' girl! F--i--n--ine. You look
damn bad longsider her, but by y'self ain't so bad. Have to do
anyhow. Nell gone. On'y you left. Not half bad, though."
Maggie stood up.
"I'm going home," she said.
The mere boy started.
"Eh? What? Home," he cried, struck with amazement.
"I beg pardon, did hear say home?"
"I'm going home," she repeated.
"Great Gawd, what hava struck," demanded the mere boy of himself, stupefied.
In a semi-comatose state he conducted her on board an up-town car,
ostentatiously paid her fare, leered kindly at her through the
rear window and fell off the steps.