Nobody sez a word. Mock an' his pal, Chin Wee, wuz on de bunk, hittin' de pipe; Lizzie Brennan wuz leanin' agin de end uv de bed an' Big Annie wuz sittin' on er soap box alongside. De room wuz full uv smoke like de Nort' river on a foggy mornin' from de pipe de Chink wuz hittin', an' it smelled like taffy candy a burnin'. You know, dat's de way de hop smells. De floor wuz pritty clean fer a joint like dat, fer Peg wuz after scrubbin' it on account uv de Chinese doctor bein' expected. I went over ter Kitty, an' I sez: “Happy New Year, Kit.” She looked at me, den shut her eyes, dropped her head on wun side uv de pillow, an' sez: “It's a Happy New Year fer you, Chuck, but it's tuff on me.” She tried ter wet her lips wid her tongue. Den she looked eround an' sez, agin: “Put yer hand under me back, Chuck, an' lift me up.” So I lifted her up, an' stuck a bunch uv pillows behind her, an' she brushed her hair back an' looked eround de room. “Well, Kate, old gal, how are yer feelin'?” sez I, 'cause I had ter say sumthin'--I couldn't be standin' dere like a dead wun. “Net very good, Chuck,” she sez. “Mock brought up de Chinee doctor an' he give me sumthin'--it's med'cine--it's dere 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?”