rest the
swing door leading to the kitchen. He wore a red undershirt, cut low
about his bull neck. It was Belle's ring that dangled from one ear.
Loosing the strap about his waist he began to sing:

"My gal has a bright blue eye,
And she steps like a fox in the snow;
And a thousand miles I'd tra-vel
To find her other beau."

Then in crescendo:

"She used to live in Stove-pipe City--"

Here the girl kicked the swing door and appeared with the first
assortment of bird dishes.

"Here, boys, you'll kinder have to sort 'em out for yerselves," she
laughed, her eager eyes watching the Clown.

Freme started in again, unconscious of the girl's anxiety--too drunk
to notice anything in fact:

"She used to live in Stove-pipe--"

He stopped short and looked at the girl with a half-drunken leer, then
wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his red shirt.

"Ham an' eggs, fried pork, tea or coffee, mince or apple pie," rattled
the girl, holding the dishes under Freme's nose.

Skinner leaned back, tried to fix his gaze upon her, lurched in his
chair and slid heavily to the floor. Such breaches of etiquette were
not infrequent occurrences at Morrison's.

The men filed out, crowding around the red-hot stove in the bar-room.
When Belle burst in again to clear the table, the Clown lay snoring
flat on his back.

By daylight Monday morning Morrison's hotel held but a single
guest--the rest, penniless by Sunday night, had gone back to work. The
Clown, with a dollar still in his pocket, remained. When the others
had gone he came down softly in his sock feet from his room and drew
up a chair to the stove in the stagnant and deserted bar-room. The
room had not yet been either swept or aired. Then he rose, opened the
door leading to the porch and let in the tingling frosty air and the
sunlight. For a long time he played with the kitten under the stove,
but he did not take a drink. He had promised Belle that he would not,
and she had kissed him as a reward. A new light shone in the girl's
eyes as she busied herself with the dishes in the kitchen beyond the
bar-room--now and then she sang to herself the refrain of a popular
song. Finally she opened the door of the kitchen and entered the
bar-room. The next moment the Clown placed his great paw of a hand
about her slim waist.

"I hain't took no drink," he said shakily, with an embarrassed laugh.

She looked up at him.

"I knowed you wouldn't, Freme," she answered sear