"It is not so nice as our kitchen," she naively replied. "But maybe the photo will make people think you are a good cook!" "A da cook-a!--naw, eesa be damn! Turnoppsis! Carrotsis! Cababbages! Black-a da boots"-- "Well, then," interrupted the child, pouting, "a rich man if you like; I don't care." "Eesa mores-a da bet," and he smiled approvingly. "And a Sunny-a da paper print under da fote-da-graph some-a ting like-a deeze--A da corner ova-a da dining room--maybees-a da den wud look-a da bet," he muttered reflectively. "In deeze-a home ova-a a Signor George-a da Golda--house-a dat, eh, a Daize?" "Is that your name?" she inquired. "Eesa good-a da name? A Daize." "May I stay in here when the photo man comes?" "Sure-a Daize!" "Oh, good!" and the child clapped her little hands and laughed gleefully. Jack looked at her quizzically, and then, seating himself on the stool, took the child between his knees. "Tell-a me, da Daize, what-a da for youse-a like-a da picture take-a here, eh?" "Cause!" she answered shyly. "Cause-a da what? Speak-a Daize." "I don't like to." "A Daize! Youse a know I bees-a da friend, speak-a." "Well, then my papa would know where to find me." "I deez-a thought so. Daize, youse-a tink I beez a da bad-a man. Eh, why?" "'Cause you promised to take me home and you have not." "Well-a Daize, your-a good-a da girl, and--eef-a da papa donn-a da come bees-a da morn, we'll-a go for-a da fine him, eh! Now youse-a da like-a me now? Eh, a Daize?" "Oh, I like you ever so much for that, and we'll go home tomorrow? "Sure-a Daize! Now tell-a me some-a ting about a da Virginia." "If I do you'll sure take me home tomorrow?" "Sure-a Daize! Eesa beez a da good a da woman, eh? Much a da like a you. Eh, a da Daize?" "Oh, yes; she would do anything for me, and I love my aunt, too." "Eesa look a da nicey. Mose a beez a da rich, eh-a Daize?" "My aunt does oil paintings, too." "Eesa got a much a da mon, eh a Daize?" "Oh, yes; a pocket full," replied the unsuspecting child. "Everybody says that she is rich, and I guess that it must be true," muttered Jack, and he could not suppress a smile of satisfaction the child's information gave him. "Eesa time to go a da bed, a Daize. Kiss a me good a da night." "If I do, you won't forget your promise?" "What a da promise?" "To take me home tomorrow." "Sure a Daize. I donna forget." Then the child kissed him, and at the contact of her soft, warm lips with his--like a stream of sunshine, the child innocence of purest lips, pierced his heart with a shaft of kindly sympathy. "Good a da night, a Daize," he said in a voice soft and gentle. Then he released the child and arose to his feet. It drew from her a look of steady admiration, and then she replied: "Good night!" On the threshold of the sleeping apartment she turned and said: "I shall pray for you tonight, Mister Golda. I shall pray for you not to forget tomorrow." And she softly closed the door.