A score or more of small tables fastened securely to the floor--for many, as Bob often said, "comes here deep in liquor an' can't tell a white-pine table from a black felt hat"--were disposed about the room at measured distances from each other, equipped with four short-legged stools, a set of casters, and a jar of sugar, all so firmly fixed as to baffle both cupidity and nervousness. On walls, posts, and pillars were hung a number of allusions to the variety and excellence of Bob's larder. It was represented that coffee and cakes could be obtained for the trifling sum of ten cents, that corned-beef hash was a specialty, and that as for Bob's chicken soup it was the best in the Bowery. Apparently attracted by this statement, Mr. Ricketty sat down, and intimated to a large young man who presented himself that he was willing to try the chicken soup together with a cup of coffee. The young man lifted his head and shouted vociferously toward the ceiling, "Chicken in de bowl, draw one!" "My friend," said Mr. Ricketty, "what a noble pair of lungs you've got and what a fine quality of voice." The young man grinned cheerfully. "I am tempted to lavish a cigar on you," continued Mr. Ricketty, "in token of my regard for those lungs. A cigar represents to me a large amount of capital, but it shall all be yours if you'll just step upstairs and see if my old friend, Ike Buxbaum, is in." "He aint in," said the waiter. "How do you know?" "I jist seen him goin' down de street." "Who runs his business when he adjourns to the street." "Dunno. Guess it's his wife." "Aha! the beauteous Becky?" "I dunno; I've seen a woman in dere." "You're sure Ike has gone off, are you?" "Didn't I say I seen him?" "True. I am answered. My friend, there's the cigar. There, too, are the fifteen cents wherewith to pay for my frugal luncheon. Look upon the luncheon when it comes as yours. I bethink me of an immediate engagement," and rising abruptly Mr. Ricketty hastened out of the restaurant into the street. [Illustration: "CHICKEN IN DE BOWL, DRAW ONE!"] He glanced quickly through the pawnshop window and made out the figure of a woman standing within among the shadows. He adjusted his hat to his head and a winsome smile to his countenance, and entered. "Good-morning!" he said, breezily, to the young woman who came forward, "where's Ike?" "Gone out," she answered, looking him over carefully. "Tut, tut, tut," said Mr. Ricketty, as if utterly annoyed and disappointed. "That's too bad. Will he be gone long?" "All the morning." "Will he now? Well, I'll call again," and Mr. Ricketty started for the door. He stopped when he had gone a step or two, however, and, wheeling about, looked earnestly at Becky. "Let me see," he said, "you must be Ike's wife. You must be the fair and radiant Becky. There's no doubt of it, not the least, now, is there?" "Well, what if there aint?" said Becky, coolly.