loating in a mist of blood.

"Joe"--she dragged gently at his coat-sleeve, and a warm pink spread out
from under the area of rouge--"Joe, you know what you promised for
to-night?"

"What, kiddo? The sky's my limit. I'll taxi you till the meter gives
out. I'll buy you--"

"You have promised so long, Joe. Come on! Let's go up home to-night. Be
a sport, and let's go. Ma's got a midnight supper waitin', and--"

"The doctor says home cookin's bad for me, sweetness."

He cocked his hat slightly askew, stroked a chin as blue as a priest's,
and winked down at her.

"Honest, sweetness, I'm going to buy you a phonograph record of 'Home
Sweet Home Ain't Sweet Enough for Me'--"

"She's waitin' up for us, Joe; she ain't hardly able to be up, but she's
waitin', Joe."

"Ain't I told you I'm going up with you some night when I'm in the humor
for it? I feel like a ninety-horse-power dancer to-night, Doll. Whatta
you bet I sold more seats for your show to-night than the box-office?
Whatta you bet?"

"Joe--you promised."

"Sure, and I'm going to keep it; but I'm wearin' a celluloid collar
to-night, hon, and the fireside ain't no place for me. I wouldn't wanna
blow your mamma to smithereens."

"Joe!"

"I wouldn't--honest, sweetness, I wouldn't."

"Joe, comin' to our house ain't like bein' company--honest! When the
boys and girls from the store used to come over we'd roll back the
carpets, and ma'd play on an old comb and Jimmie'd make a noise like a
banjo, and--"

"Hear! Hear! You sound like 'Way Down East' gone into vaudeville."

"Come on up to-night, Joe--like you promised."

"We'll talk it over a little later, sweetness. Midnight ain't no time to
call on your best girl's dame. What'll she be thinkin' of us buttin' in
there for midnight supper? To-morrow night's Sunday--that'll be more
like it."

"She got it waitin' for us, Joe. All week she been fixing every night,
and us not comin'. She knows it's the only time we got, Joe. She says
she'd rather have us come home after the show than go kiting round like
this. Honest, Joe, she's regular sport herself. She used to be the life
of her department; the girls used to laff and laff at her cuttings-up.
She's achin' to see you, Joe. She knows I we--she don't talk about
nothin' else, Joe; and she's sick--it scares me to think how sick maybe
she is." He leaned to her upturned face; tears trembled on her lashes
and in her voice. "Please, Joe!"

"To-morrow night, sure, littl