eer," broke in her mother with mild resentment.
"I drinks it sometimes, but she don't. I reckon maybe de chillen better
go to bed."

Joe felt as if the "chillen" had ruined all his hopes, but Kitty rose.

The ingratiating "N' Yawker" was aghast.

"Oh, let 'em stay," said Mrs. Jones heartily; "a little beer ain't goin'
to hurt 'em. Why, sakes, I know my father gave me beer from the time I
could drink it, and I knows I ain't none the worse fu' it."

"They 'll git out o' that, all right, if they live in N' Yawk," said Mr.
Thomas, as he poured out a glass and handed it to Joe. "You neither?"

"Oh, I drink it," said the boy with an air, but not looking at his
mother.

"Joe," she cried to him, "you must ricollect you ain't at home. What 'ud
yo' pa think?" Then she stopped suddenly, and Joe gulped his beer and
Kitty went to the piano to relieve her embarrassment.

"Yes, that 's it, Miss Kitty, sing us something," said the irrepressible
Thomas, "an' after while we 'll have that fellah down that plays
'Rag-time.' He 's out o' sight, I tell you."

With the pretty shyness of girlhood, Kitty sang one or two little songs
in the simple manner she knew. Her voice was full and rich. It delighted
Mr. Thomas.

"I say, that 's singin' now, I tell you," he cried. "You ought to have
some o' the new songs. D' jever hear 'Baby, you got to leave'? I tell
you, that 's a hot one. I 'll bring you some of 'em. Why, you could git
a job on the stage easy with that voice o' yourn. I got a frien' in one
o' the comp'nies an' I 'll speak to him about you."

"You ought to git Mr. Thomas to take you to the th'atre some night. He
goes lots."

"Why, yes, what 's the matter with to-morrer night? There 's a good coon
show in town. Out o' sight. Let 's all go."

"I ain't nevah been to nothin' lak dat, an' I don't know," said Mrs.
Hamilton.

"Aw, come, I 'll git the tickets an' we 'll all go. Great singin', you
know. What d' you say?"

The mother hesitated, and Joe filled the breach.

"We 'd all like to go," he said. "Ma, we' ll go if you ain't too tired."

"Tired? Pshaw, you 'll furgit all about your tiredness when Smithkins
gits on the stage. Y' ought to hear him sing, 'I bin huntin' fu' wo'k'!
You 'd die laughing."

Mrs. Hamilton made no further demur, and the matter was closed.

Awhile later the "Rag-time" man came down and gave them a sample of what
they were to hear the next night. Mr. Thomas and Mrs. Jones two-stepped,
and they sen