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 and audacity.
"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."
Pete squirmed.
"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 and
spoke.
"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.