ed it.
The milk pail was empty now, and Jimmy had almost forgotten that it was
a milk pail, and seemed inclined to resent the fact that it had gone
empty. He beat time on the bottom of it, and frequently interrupted the
Thread Man to repeat a couplet which particularly suited him. By and by
he got to his feet and began stepping off a slow dance to a sing-song
repetition of lines that sounded musical to him, all the time marking
the measures vigorously on the pail. When he tired of a couplet, he
pounded the pail over the bar, stove, or chairs in encore, until the
Thread Man could think up another to which he could dance.

"Wine! Wine! Wine! Red Wine!
The Nightingale cried to the rose,"

chanted Jimmy, thumping the pail in time, and stepping off the measures
with feet that scarcely seemed to touch the floor. He flung his hat to
the barkeeper, and his coat on a chair, ruffled his fingers through his
thick auburn hair, and holding the pail under one arm, he paused,
panting for breath and begging for more. The Thread Man sat on the edge
of his chair, and the eyes he fastened on Jimmy were beginning to fill
with interest.

"Come fill the Cup and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-Garment of Repentance fling.
The bird of time has but a little way to flutter
And the bird is on the wing."

Smash came the milk pail across the bar. "Hooray!" shouted Jimmy.
"Besht yet!" Bang! Bang! He was off. "ird ish on the wing," he chanted,
and his feet flew. "Come fill the cup, and in the firesh of
spring--Firesh of Spring, Bird ish on the Wing!" Between the music of
the milk pail, the brogue of the panted verses, and the grace of
Jimmy's flying feet, the Thread Man was almost prostrate. It suddenly
came to him that here might be a chance to have a great time.

"More!" gasped Jimmy. "Me some more!" The Thread Man wiped his eyes.

"Wether the cup with sweet or bitter run,
The wine of life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The leaves of life keep falling one by one."

Away went Jimmy.

"Swate or bitter run,
Laves of life kape falling one by one."

Bang! Bang! sounded a new improvision on the sadly battered pail, and
to a new step Jimmy flashed back and forth the length of the saloon. At
last he paused to rest a second. "One more! Just one more!" he begged.

"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A jug of wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness.
Oh, wilderness were Paradise