"Maybe I won't come back at all," said Kern, improvising a barn dance about the long office. "Maybe I'll run off with a count and go to Europe on a steamer like, and have mand'lins played under my winder by moonlight, and sit at a gool' writin'-desk all day and make up po'try."

"That would be rather hard on the count, wouldn't it?" said Mr. V.V., absently; and added at once: "What makes you do that?"

"St.i.tch in me side," said she, impishly. "Machineetis, _I_ call it. Like 'pendicitis, y' know? It's gone now. I don't get tired when I dance."

Kern had a quant.i.ty of dark brown hair, covered now by a picture hat supporting a base red imitation of a willow plume; she put on the hat every night nowadays, whether she was going out or not. By two years'

steady practice she was esteemed one of the best operatives in the Heth Cheroot Works; but her new pa.s.sion in life was to learn from Mr. V.V.

what it was to be a lady. Dearly as Kern loved beads, pins, buckles, and all that shone and glittered, her particular desire for Christmas had been a Netiquette and Complete Letter Writer, and this Mr. V.V. had duly obtained for her, though it had run to a dollar and a quarter. The little girl might have been any age or no age; she was unformed for her years, somewhat elfin of countenance, and thin in the cheek. On one of these cheeks, Dr. Vivian now laid the back of his hand, and told Kern to stick out her tongue. She did it as she did everything (except cheroot-making), like a game, sticking it out much farther than was necessary and repeatedly winking her left eye.

Vivian set down the suitcase again.

"You go to bed," said he. "I'll attend to the studs."

Kern stuck back her tongue and unwinked her eye, with something like consternation.

"I feel _very_ well, Mr. V.V.--honest! I'll get 'em and come straight back, sir,--truly, truly!"

The young man reached for his overcoat. "I don't want you to go out to-night. It's just the same as if you did it for me, because you want to do it. That's what counts. Now go on to bed. You aren't well at all, I fear."

Kern turned, much depressed. "It was me thought of Willie Walter. I think you might lemme."

"You must do what I say, Corinne."

"Ain't I doin' it, no matter how hard it is, sir?"

"Don't call me sir, I've told you."

Kern sadly retired. However, she did not do exactly what Mr. V.V. said.

When, after forty minutes of storm and stress, he emerged from his bedroom and shouted to Mrs. Garland to come and see him if she liked, Kern, too, came running down the hall, still in her hat. Her interest in the gay evening being so peculiarly strong, Vivian did not have the heart to scold her very hard, especially as she cried ahead the promise to go to bed the very minute he was gone. And it might be that he was secretly rather glad to have his little friend see him in his splendid regalia.

He stood under the chandelier in his decaying chamber, revolving himself with complacence for the Garlands' inspection. It was O'Neill's old suit that he had borrowed, which, as the Honorable Commissioner had pointed out, really made a much better fit than the costly brand-new one just from Begg's. At the first sight of their boarder in it, the two women cried out with pleasure, likening him to dooks and dashing villains on the stage, well seen by them from upper galleries of the past. But with the dying of the first enthusiastic burst, Kern, the connoisseur, who had herself been clasped by gentlemen's fulldressuits at union hops, developed a more searching tendency. By the elbow she incited the doctor to keep on rotating.

"There's _something_ wrong, sir, Mr. V.V., but I can't make out just what it is."

"It's these shoes," said Mr. V.V., frankly. "I really ought to have patent leathers to look like the rest of the bloods, but these'll do very nicely, when I have them well shined up. I'll stop by the stand at Ninth Street."

"This spot right in front of the coat don't look so _very_ good," said Kern, scratching it with a small finger, which only whitened it up.

"Shuh, Kern! That!" said Mrs. Garland, who had seen the spot, but decided to say nothing about it. "Why, hot suds and a drop ammonia'll fade it out like sunshine, and n.o.body never know't was there. Wait till I get my pan now, Doctor."

"I wisht the coat could set a little snugger round your neck, Mr. V.V.

But mercy, who cares, when you look so beautiful anyway! And you'll have the most beautiful lady and set and talk to her, won't you, Mr. V.V.?"

"Stranger things have happened, my dear Corinne!"

"There'll be roses and violets and little pink lights and chicking salad and conservatories and fountings all lit up. And what'll you and her talk about, Mr. V.V., with the band playing kind of soft and settin'

behind some rubber-plants like?"

"Probably something for her own good," said Mr. V.V., with a close-set mouth; leaving Kern to reflect that that was a funny way to talk at a party.

Mrs. Garland rushed in with a steaming pan, and plumped down on her knees at the unshone feet. The little girl prattled on. But the tall doctor, on his own word, had relapsed abruptly into a brown study....

"It sags a little in front," Kern was saying. "Lemme just get my hand on the buckle a minute. Mr. V.V., what makes you look so mad, kind of?"

The young man started a little.

"I was thinking," said he, "that life is hard at times."

"It's truth, Doctor.... Hadn't his negtie ought to be tightened up a weeny bit, Kern, now?" said Mrs. Garland harshly, staring up from her adoring position. "Not but _I_ think the shine of his gool'

collar-b.u.t.ton ain't pretty...."

When Mr. V.V. and his gala raiment were gone, Kern skipped into his bedroom and hastily tackled the marked disorder there prevalent. She thought that an extra minute or so stolen for this purpose would not really be so very wrong. Care of the rooms was strictly included in the boarder's twenty dollars a month, but Kern was not thinking of it that way exactly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THERE'S _SOMETHING_ WRONG, SIR, MR. V.V.]

"Mommer, what makes him have that kinder sorry look all the time, I wonder?" she said, when Mrs. Garland followed her in.

"Sorry, what you talkin' about? A pleasanter spoke gempman I never see.

Hand me them pants."

"I'll fold'em, mommer.--I don't mean speakin', but the look he's got, just the same when he's laughin' and jokin' and all. It's the look he's got, don't you notice, someway?"

"It's that foot o' his, I reckon. Pains him prob'ly. The mess he's left things.... He'd ought to have a fulldressuit of his own, 'stead o'

borrowin' that fat O'Neill's."

"Mommer, if he had one, somebody 'd ask it off him. Like he gave Mister his Sunday cutaway coat.... How'd he hurt his foot, mommer, jever hear him say?"

"Berkler bone, _I_ hear."

They worked in silence for a time.

"I'm right tired to-night. Put 'em here in his clo'es-bag, mommer....

Don't seem it could be just his foot. Torm Hartman's leg's right off to his hip, and he's got a fat look to him. Mr. V.V.'s sorry like he wanted to do something, and something in him knewed all the time he couldn't ever."

"Somep'n in him knewed--jever hear such foolishness! I'll take the broom to this floor. You go along to bed now. Didn't I hear you promise him?"

"Mommer, I'm going. Only I druther of went to the party," said Kern.

X

A Beautiful New Year's Party, and who spoiled it, and how; how Something is done, after all, for she tells the Man plainly that he mustn't speak to her any more.

By eleven o'clock the festivities approached their height: even the ultra-fashionable had arrived, even the ultra-conservative had not departed for bed. The affair was none of your wholesale routs. Old Mr.