about it. Then he trudged down the
four flights again, with the third costume over his arm. It was a
Chinese jacket and a pair of tight, short blue satin trousers, and
Freddy was very proud of this confection. He stood as a screen for
Florette while she put on the trousers, and there are not many little
boys who have a mamma who could look so pretty in them.

Florette skipped out lightly and finished her act by swinging far out
over the audience, back and forth, faster and faster, farther and
farther out, until it seemed as if she were going to fling herself
into the lap of some middle-aged gentleman in the third row. His wife
invariably murmured something about a hussy as Florette's pretty bare
legs flashed overhead. The music played louder, ended with a boom from
the drum. Florette flung herself upright, kissed her hands, the
curtain fell, and the barelegged hussy ran up to the dressing room
where her little son waited.

Freddy had already hung up and shrouded the silver-and-green costume,
and was waiting for the Chinese one. He pounced upon it, muttered
about some wrinkles, put it into place, and went to the dressing table
to hand Florette the cold cream. He found her make-up towel, all caked
with red and blue, which she had flung down on the floor. He patted
her highly glittering hair and adjusted a pin. He marshalled the jars
and little pans and sticks of grease paint on her shelf into an
orderly row and blew off the deep layers of powder she had scattered.
Then he took down her street dress from its hook and slipped it deftly
over her shoulders and had it buttoned up before Florette could yawn.
He handed her her saucy bright hat. He flung himself into his own
coat.

"Well, le's go, Florette!" cried Freddy gayly, with dancing eyes. He
had never called her mamma. She was too little and cute.

Then they would go to the hotel, never the best, where they were
stopping. The room with its greenish light, its soiled lace curtains,
the water pitcher always cracked, the bed always lumpy, the sheets
always damp, was home to Freddy. Florette made it warm and cozy even
when there was no heat in the radiator. She had all sorts of clever
home-making tricks. She toasted marshmallows over the gas jet; she
spread a shawl on the trunk; or she surprised Freddy by pinning
pictures out of the funny page on the wall. She could make the nicest
tea on a little alcohol stove she carried in her trunk. There was
always a little feast a