aid, in a low voice, "do not worry--it will not matter to us. We will
pay them all somehow. I will work harder." That was always what Jurgis
said. Ona had grown used to it as the solution of all difficulties--"I
will work harder!" He had said that in Lithuania when one official had
taken his passport from him, and another had arrested him for being
without it, and the two had divided a third of his belongings. He had
said it again in New York, when the smooth-spoken agent had taken them
in hand and made them pay such high prices, and almost prevented their
leaving his place, in spite of their paying. Now he said it a third
time, and Ona drew a deep breath; it was so wonderful to have a husband,
just like a grown woman--and a husband who could solve all problems, and
who was so big and strong!

The last sob of little Sebastijonas has been stifled, and the orchestra
has once more been reminded of its duty. The ceremony begins again--but
there are few now left to dance with, and so very soon the collection is
over and promiscuous dances once more begin. It is now after midnight,
however, and things are not as they were before. The dancers are dull
and heavy--most of them have been drinking hard, and have long ago
passed the stage of exhilaration. They dance in monotonous measure,
round after round, hour after hour, with eyes fixed upon vacancy, as if
they were only half conscious, in a constantly growing stupor. The men
grasp the women very tightly, but there will be half an hour together
when neither will see the other's face. Some couples do not care to
dance, and have retired to the corners, where they sit with their arms
enlaced. Others, who have been drinking still more, wander about the
room, bumping into everything; some are in groups of two or three,
singing, each group its own song. As time goes on there is a variety
of drunkenness, among the younger men especially. Some stagger about in
each other's arms, whispering maudlin words--others start quarrels upon
the slightest pretext, and come to blows and have to be pulled apart.
Now the fat policeman wakens definitely, and feels of his club to
see that it is ready for business. He has to be prompt--for these
two-o'clock-in-the-morning fights, if they once get out of hand, are
like a forest fire, and may mean the whole reserves at the station. The
thing to do is to crack every fighting head that you see, before there
are so many fighting heads that you cannot crack an