children playing in the corridors of the House of Sin. Above the playground forever hovered a great bird. The bird was known to humorists as the stork. But the people of Chrystie street were better ornithologists. They called it a vulture.
A little girl of twelve came up timidly to the man reading and resting by the window, and said:
‘‘Papa, won’t you play a game of checkers with me if you aren’t too tired?”
The red-haired, unshaven, untidy man sitting shoeless by the window answered, with a frown:
“Checkers! No, I won’t. Can’t a man who works hard all day have a little rest when he comes home? Why don’t you go out and play with the other kids on the sidewalk?”
The woman who was cooking came to the door.
“John,” she said, “I don’t like for Lizzie to play in the street. They learn too much there that ain’t good for ’em. She’s been in the house all day long. It seems that you might give up a little of your time to amuse her when you come home.”
“Let her go out and play like the rest of ’em if she wants to be amused,” said the red-haired, unshaven, untidy man, “and don’t bother me.”
***
“You’re on,” said Kid Mullaly. “Fifty dollars to $25 I take Annie to the dance. Put up.”
The Kid’s black eyes were snapping with the fire
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