IN NEW YORK
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 sent a boy after some more beer. Joe found it a very jolly evening, but Kit's and the mother's hearts were heavy as they went up to bed.
"Say," said Mr. Thomas when they had gone, "that little girl's a peach, you bet; a little green, I guess, but she 'll ripen in the sun."
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