"I ain't kickin', Ysobel. I wake up every morning pinchin' myself." "Gawd, if you gotta long face, what ought the rest of us to have? You're the luckiest girl any of us knows. Did you see what the new _Yellow Book_ says about you? 'The Titian-headed Venus de Meelo'--how's that--huh?" "Just the same, you wouldn't change places with me, Ysobel! Don't wriggle out of answering me! Now, would you?" "Watch out, you're mussing up your beauty curls. Here, lemme pin that diamond heart on the left shoulder of your dress. Hurry up, honey, Myers will be here any minute, and you know how sore he gets if you keep him waitin'." "Do I?" "Say, but that silver's swell on you!" "Say, Ysobel, wait till they see my little sister. We could do a twin act that would take 'em off their feet. That new 'Heavenly Twin' show that Al read us the first act of, with Cottie and me featured, and you doin' the Columbine--gee--" "'Sh-h-h-h! There--he--is--knockin'." "It can't be Hy already. I--I ain't dressed yet, Hy--just a minute! Oh, it's a telegram, Ysobel; take it, like a good girl." "Say, it ain't another from Third Row Bobbie, is it? You ought to tip him off that he's wastin' his pin-money on you, hon'." Della ripped the flap, read, and very suddenly sat down on the silver-fox coat. The color drained out of her face, and her breath came irregularly as if her heart had missed a beat. "Della--Del--darlin'--what's the matter?" "Oh, Gawd!" "What, darlin'--what?" "Read!" Ysobel peered across the bare shoulder, her slim silk legs tiptoed and her neck arched. Maw buried yesterday. Money you sent for her birthday paid funeral. Am ready. Wire directions. COTTIE. "Aw--aw, Del darlin'--honest, I--I don't know what to say, only it--only--it ain't like she was your _real_ mother, Del darlin'. You can't be hard hit over a blind old dame that used to make it hot as sixty for you." "Poor old soul--she lived like a rat and--died like one, I guess." "With you sending her money all the time--nixy!" "Like a rat! Poor old maw." Della's voice was far removed, like one who speaks through the film of a trance. "When my old dame died I felt bad, too, but Gawd knows she wasn't peaches and cream to have around the house. And look, darlin'--Cottie's comin' now--look--Cottie's comin'!" "Cottie--Cottie--comin'?" "Sure she is--see, read, honey--'Am ready.'" "Oh, Gawd, Ysobel, now that it's come I--I'm scared--she--she's such a kid--she--Ysobel--I--I'm scared--I--" "'Sh-h-h. There he is knockin', Del. Try and smile, hon'. You know how sore a long face makes him. Maybe you won't have to go to-night, now--smile, darlin'--smile! Come in!" The door opened with a fling, and enter Mr. Hy Myers, an unlighted cigar at a sharp oblique in one corner of his mouth, hat slightly askew, and a full-length overcoat flung open to reveal a mink lining and studded shirt-front.