in de stone jug, an' it's got me Head a-reelin'. I t'ink dere must be sumthin' in it dat makes me feel rocky."

I see she wuz gettin' kind uv nutty—yer know dat Chinky med'cin' is funny stuff—so I tol' Peg ter turn out der beer an' give Kitty a glass ter take der taste uv der med'cin' out uv her t'rottle. So we all had a glass an' I tuk a glass over ter Mock an' asked him ter drink fer Happy New Year, but he sez:

"No, Chuck, I no dlinkee now; too muchee solly; you sabe. Kitty too muchee bimeby die."

"Not on yer life, Mock," sez I. "Kitty ain't goin' ter die. She's all ter de good. She looks like er boilermaker goin' ter work."

"Me no t'ink so, Chuck," he sez. "She too muchee dlink, an' too muchee smoke opium. Now she makee die."

"Ah ferget it," sez I, "she'll be all rite. See, she's laffin'; don't yer see her?"

De odder monk didn't screw his nut wunce w'ile we wuz chinnin'; he kep' rite on cookin' de opium pill over de sweet oil lamp fer anudder smoke, fer he didn't care if de w'ole worl' wuz on de bum, an' he wuz de Commiss'oner uv Char'ties an' got his graft. He lost sight uv us in de last pill he smoked, an' his lamps went out on him. Den Mock went up again de pipe himself an' went over to de foot uv de bed. De two bundles went out, an' I wuz sittin' dere like a tombstone, fiddlin' wid me fingers, an' t'inkin' w'ot a grate time de mob wuz havin'. Mock's pal went out lookin' as if he'd played de dead man's gig wid forty cents in stage money, an' in anudder minnit Mock was stretched out snorin' like a steam engin'. I got kind uv dopey meself, sittin' dere wid nobody ter chin ter, an' I played off inter a snooze. I don't know how long I wuz asleep, but de fi'st t'ing I knows, I woke up wid Kitty shakin' me. I t'ought she had a fit de way she wuz glarin' aroun' de room.

"Listen, Chuck, listen," an' she grabbed me by der shoul'ers wid a grip like Jeffries.

Dere wuz a mob goin' past in de street singin' dat ol' song, "I Dream't Me Dear Ol' Mudder wuz er Queen."

"Do yer hear dat, Chuck," sez she, an' I couldn't say nuttin'. Den she broke out cryin' an' falls back on her piller. Say, on de level, she made me feel kin' uv spongy meself.

"Cheese it, Kit," sez I. "Don't do dat; ferget it; dis is New Year's Eve."

"I wish I could be dat way again, out on de street wid de mob, havin' a good time," she sez, "but I know I'm all in. I've had mine, I guess, an' de finish is almos' here, but listen Chuck," she sez. Den she reached aroun' under de mattress an' pulled out a little package, an' she begins pullin' off de papers, one sheet after anudder, all de time cryin' as if she wuz never goin' ter stop, an' w'en de las' piece uv paper cum off she flashed er gold ring. She looked at it fer a minnit an' den she sez as she held it up:

"Chuck, do yer see dis? It's me weddin' ring, an' dat's why I keep it so dear. But it's turned agin me like all de worl' has, an' dat's w'y I tol' Peg Dillon ter tell yer ter cum up. De rent is due tomorrer, Chuck, an' we ain't got a nickel, an' we can't make a touch from no one. Yer know w'en yer down yer ain't got no friends."

On de level, I could feel a wrinkle cum in me heart.

"It's de same ol' sayin', Chuck, w'en yer got it ev'rybody will stick ter yer. I've hocked ev'ryt'ing dat would bring in a dollar, an' dis is de las' t'ing I've got. I kept it ter look at an' ter make me t'ink uv long ago. Take it, yer know what ter do wid it."

Say, I don't of'en get dripple, but I wuz near it dat time. Yer know dere's some t'ings wot' gits ter a feller, no matter w'ot kind uv clothes he wears. I wouldn't stan' fer her lettin' her last piece uv junk go.

"Soak it away agin, Kitty," sez I, "an' I'll go out an' give de road a dash, an' if I kin dig up enny uv dem swell cream cakes from uptown, w'ot's down here ter see de sights, yer kin bet yer sweet life dey won't get away dis time from yours truly, an' de lan'lord will git his coin."

Dere ain't no finish ter dis, but Kitty didn't croak after all.

P. S.—De lan'lord got his rent all rite, an' dere wuzn't no kick cumin' from him.

CHUCK AND SLATS IN SOCIETY

I wuz uptown wunce w'en I had de time uv me life. Dere's a good many uv de mob around de Reservation wot ain't never been uptown. Dey never travelled an' don't know nuttin'. Yer kin rend t'ings out uv books an' papers but you've got ter see 'em if yer want ter git next rite.

Dat's de only way.

Well, dis is de way dis trip happened.

A bloke wot lives uptown an' knows all erbout it an' who's er kind uv er pal uv mine on account uv me knowin' him so long cum down wun nite an' tips me off dat he wants ter take me an' me gal up to er swell dump w'ere dere's er racket. I wuz afraid dat I would have ter dig up wun uv dose funny suits uv clothes wid er white shirt, but he said nixey, dat it wuz all rite ter go just as I wuz. So I hussies around and digs up Slats—me bundle, yer know—an' off we start.

"Cum on," sez de swell bloke, "let's take er car."

"No," sez I, "let's do de Dan O'Leary—walk, yer know—an' blow in de car far fer er cupple uv mugs uv ale."

It wuz like goin' ter China fer Slats, fer she always stuck to de block, an' by de time we got ter Fourteenth street she wuz hancin' on ter me right wing like.

I give her a waist hold wot almost took her off her pins. "Dis guy hez got us uptown here an' if yer ain't careful he'll switch an' drop us in an ice wagon an' give us er freeze out. So keep dat kisser uv yours barricaded an' consider yerself stuffed 'til yer git back."

Just den de bloke we wuz wid handed me er segar dat wuz er beaut. It must hev cost ten cents, enny-how.

Den Slats opened up ag'in.

"Say, Willie," she sez, "yer ain't got er cigaret, hev yer?"

"Sure," sez he, an' he hands her er box uv 'em.

Well, she copped de whole bunch an handed him back de empty box.

De bloke looked at me an' I looked at Slats an' she looked at de cigaret's. Wot do yer t'ink uv dat fer gall?

W'en I got er chance I whispered:

"Say, w'ere's de bloke's cigaret's?"

"Wot bloke's cigaret's?" she sez.

"W'y de bloke wot brought us up here."

Den she gives me de old gaserline smile and sez:

"Ah, fergit it."

"I won't fergit it, an' wot do ver tink uv dat?" sez I.

"Well, try an' fergit it," sez she.

Dat took all de asbestos out uv me fer a minnit, so I sez:

"All rite me old bundle, I'll put de kibosh on you w'en we git back ter de Reservation."

By this time she wuz gittin' kinder used ter de lights, an' I could see she wuz gittin' fresh. So I t'ought dat maybe I'd hev ter hand her wun just ter keep her in her place, w'en we pulled up in frunt uv er big joint.

"Wot dump is dis?" sez Slats.

"Dis is er hotel," sez he.

Wid dat Slats give me er nudge wid de elbow an' wun uv dem bum winks.

"Whoever heard uv er hotel ez big ez dat?" sez she an' she wouldn't stand fer it fer er minnit.

In de front dere wuz er lot uv swell bundles wid all kinds uv togs on an quarries—yer know di'monds—in dere ears. I wuz takin' dem all in an' Slats wuz pipin' in der frunt winders at der guys wid de feed bags on, w'en de bloke we wuz wid hustled us erlong, but she went back ter git anudder look an' de first t'ing I knew she wuz hollerin':

"Ha, Chuck, Chuck, cum here."

So I goes back an' dere she wuz wid er laugh on her face dat went from her ears ter her eyebrows, "Say," she sez, "pipe de clothes dis mug hez got on. Dat's grate, ain't it?"

"Dat's er bell boy," sez de bloke.

"Bell boy, nix," she sez. "Under de table fer yours. Wot are yer tryin' ter do, string me? Yer might call him er bell boy, but I don't seen no bells about him. I t'ink he's er ringer."

Well, we dragged her away before she got pinched, an' den we landed in de place