ng it tightly in his
fist, waved it under Feuerstein's nose. As he did it, he vented a
drunken chuckle. "Soda fountain's gol' mine, Fishenspiel," he said
thickly. "No, you don't! I can watch my own roll." He winked and
chuckled.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Fishy," he went on, with a leer. Then he took
off another ten and handed it to Feuerstein. "Good fel', Fishy," he
mumbled, "'f y' are a dead beat."

Feuerstein added the ten to the thirty and ordered more whisky. Dippel
tried to doze, but he would not permit it. "He mustn't sleep any of it
off," he thought.

When the whisky came Dippel shook himself together and started up.
"G'-night," he said, trying to stand, look and talk straight. "Don't
f'rget, y'owe me ten dollarses--no, two ten dollarses."

"Oh, sit down," coaxed Feuerstein, taking him by the arm. "It's early
yet."

Dippel shook him off with much dignity. "Don' touch me!" he growled.
"I know what I'm 'bout. I'm goin' home." Then to himself, but aloud:
"Dippy, you're too full f'r utterance--you mus' shake this beat."
Again to Feuerstein:

"G'night, Mr. Funkelshine--g'night. Sit there till I'm gone."

Feuerstein rose to follow and Dippel struck at him. The waiter seized
each by the shoulder and flung them through the swinging doors. Dippel
fell in a heap on the sidewalk, but Feuerstein succeeded in keeping to
his feet. He went to the assistance of Dippel.

"Don't touch me," shouted Dippel.

"Police! Police!"

Feuerstein looked fearfully round, gave Dippel a kick and hurried away.
When he glanced back from a safe distance Dippel was waving to and fro
on his wobbling legs, talking to a cabman.

"Close-fisted devil," muttered Feuerstein. "He couldn't forget his
money even when he was drunk. What good is money to a brute like him?"
And he gave a sniff of contempt for the vulgarity and meanness of
Dippel and his kind.

Early the next morning he established a modus vivendi with his landlady
by giving her ten dollars on account. He had an elaborate breakfast at
Terrace Garden and went to Bloomingdale's, arriving at eleven
precisely. Lena Ganser was already there, pretending to shop at a
counter in full view of the appointed place. They went to Terrace
Garden and sat in the Stube. He at once opened up his sudden romantic
passion. "All night I have walked the streets," he said, "dreaming of
you." When he had fully informed her of the state of his love-maddened
mind toward her, he we