"Moping, you mean. If it was her month in the dirty Harlem flat she'd be spry enough. She knows what I mean whan I say that, and she knows she better cut out this pouting. Quit breathing through your mouth or I'll stick a cork in it." "Aw, Jerry, she can't help that!" "Cat got your tongue? Where's Cloonan?" The child's little face quivered and screwed, each feature drawing itself into position for tears. Her eyes disappeared, her nostrils distended, her mouth opened to a quivering rectangle, and she fell into silent weeping. "Aw, Jerry--you--you scared her! Come here, darling; come here to me, Maisie; come, dearie." But the child slid past the extended arms, down the wooden steps, and around a corner of the house, her arm held up across her eyes. "Aw, Jerry, honest, you can be awful mean!" "I'll get that out of her or know the reason why. They've poisoned her against me, that's about how it is in a nutshell. I'll get that pouting to be in that dirty Harlem hole with her mother and grandmother out of her or know the reason why." "She--" "Look, this is the front hall. Guess this 'ain't got that sty in Twenty-third Street beat some. Look! How do you like it? This way to the parlor and dining-room." Sadie Barnet smiled through the shadows in her eyes. "Jerry! Say, ain't this beau-tiful! A upright piano and gold, chairs and--Why, Jerry! why, Jerry!" "And look in here, the dining-room. Her and her mother shopped three weeks to get this oak set, and see this fancy cabinet full of china. Slick, ain't it?" Her fingers curled in a soft, clutch around her throat as if her breath came too fast. "Jerry, it--it's just grand." He marshaled her in all the pride of ownership. "Look, butler's pantry, exposed plumbing." "Oh! Oh!" "Kitchen." "Oh! Oh!" "Here, Cloonan. I told you I was going to bring somebody out to take hold and sit on you and your bills, didn't I? This lady's coming out here tomorrow, bag and baggage. Hand over your account-book to her and I bet she does better with it. See that you fix us up in honeymoon style, too. Bag and baggage we're coming. Savvy?" The figure beside the ill-kept stove, bowl in lap and paring potatoes with the long fleshless hands of a bird, raised a still more fleshless face. "Howdy!" "Cloonan's been running this shebang for two years now, Peachy, and there ain't nothing much she can't learn you about my ways. They ain't hard. Look! Porcelain-lined sink. It's got Twenty-third Street beat some, 'ain't it?" "Yes, Jerry." "Fix us a beefsteak supper, Cloonan, and lemme weigh up them groceries I sent out and lemme see your books afterward. Come, Peachy, here, up these stairs. This is the second floor. Pretty neat, ain't it? Her and her mother shopped three more weeks on this oak bed-set. Some little move out here from Twenty-third Street for a little rooming-house queen like you, eh? Neat little bedroom, eh, Peachy? Eh?"