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.