and all his
knowledge of high-class customs for her benefit. Her heart warmed as
she reflected upon his condescension.

The orchestra of yellow silk women and bald-headed men gave vent to a
few bars of anticipatory music and a girl, in a pink dress with short
skirts, galloped upon the stage. She smiled upon the throng as if in
acknowledgment of a warm welcome, and began to walk to and fro, making
profuse gesticulations and singing, in brazen soprano tones, a song,
the words of which were inaudible. When she broke into the swift
rattling measures of a chorus some half-tipsy men near the stage joined
in the rollicking refrain and glasses were pounded rhythmically upon
the tables. People leaned forward to watch her and to try to catch the
words of the song. When she vanished there were long rollings of
applause.

Obedient to more anticipatory bars, she reappeared amidst the
half-suppressed cheering of the tipsy men. The orchestra plunged into
dance music and the laces of the dancer fluttered and flew in the glare
of gas jets. She divulged the fact that she was attired in some half
dozen skirts. It was patent that any one of them would have proved
adequate for the purpose for which skirts are intended. An occasional
man bent forward, intent upon the pink stockings. Maggie wondered at
the splendor of the costume and lost herself in calculations of the
cost of the silks and laces.

The dancer's smile of stereotyped enthusiasm was turned for ten minutes
upon the faces of her audience. In the finale she fell into some of
those grotesque attitudes which were at the time popular among the
dancers in the theatres up-town, giving to the Bowery public the
phantasies of the aristocratic theatre-going public, at reduced rates.

"Say, Pete," said Maggie, leaning forward, "dis is great."

"Sure," said Pete, with proper complacence.

A ventriloquist followed the dancer. He held two fantastic dolls on
his knees. He made them sing mournful ditties and say funny things
about geography and Ireland.

"Do dose little men talk?" asked Maggie.

"Naw," said Pete, "it's some damn fake. See?"

Two girls, on the bills as sisters, came forth and sang a duet that is
heard occasionally at concerts given under church auspices. They
supplemented it with a dance which of course can never be seen at
concerts given under church auspices.

After the duettists had retired, a woman of debatable age sang a negro
melody. The chorus n