“Want to go in to the second show?” Hinkey asked. “Nope, I’ve got to be home before ten,” said Hervey. They walked up the street together and turned into Milligan Street which ran through to Hart Street on which Hervey lived. Another block and he would have been safely at home. Milligan Street was but one block long; it was dominated by the big square wooden Congregational church which had stood there a good hundred years before any of the chain of Hinkey million dollar theatres had been dreamed of. Its white bulk and the massive roof-high pillars before its spacious portal loomed in the darkness. “Is that where the kids meet?” Hinkey asked. He meant the Scouts, but he never paid them the compliment of calling them by that name. “Yop,” said Hervey, “only they’re not meeting there to-night. It’s the Farrelton band. They practise in the Sunday School room. There go a couple of them now.” As he spoke a couple of young men hastened along the board walk beside the church and into the lighted extension. “_Oh, listen to the band_,” Hinkey sang rather aggressively. “Come on, let’s sit down; you don’t have to go home yet,” he said. Adjacent to the church was a long, ramshackle shed, reminiscent of a time when people sheltered their horses and carriages during service. Near this was a rail where horses had once been tied. In days gone by many were the sermons punctuated by the restive stamping of these horses from near and far about the countryside. “I bet you I can walk on that,” said Hervey. “I bet you I can go the whole length of it on one foot. Do you say I can’t?” After a stumble or two, he proved that he could. “Come on, let’s sit on the rail; I don’t have to get in till ten.” Nine-thirty was the limit set, but Hervey had made it ten and Mr. Walton had not taken official notice. “Me, I can stay out all night,” said Hinkey. “You’re lucky. I bet when you went to Coney Island you stayed that late.” “They were lucky if they saw me back the next day,” said Hinkey. “Did you go on the boat? I bet you wouldn’t stand on the rail of that.” “I bet I did.” “Not when it was going?” “Sure I did.” “Oh bimbo. Let’s see you walk this rail--on one foot.” “I wouldn’t be bothered,” said Hinkey. “I bet you were never up in the tower of that Woolworth Building.” “I bet I was. I bet I know the man that owns it.” “I bet you wouldn’t stand on the rail up there--oh boy!” “I bet I would.” “I bet you wouldn’t.” “I bet I would only there’s a man that won’t let you.” “I bet I could do it when he didn’t see me,” said Hervey. “Will they let you walk through that tube under the river?” “Sure, and Election Day is a holiday over there too. This is no good of a state.” “I bet you don’t get forefathers’ Day over there,” said Hervey. “So that proves you’re a fool.” “I bet if you saw Coney Island you’d want to stay there.” “Oh bimbo!” said Hervey. “Do they have loop-the-loops there?” “Suuure they do, and I looped them too.”