“And then you didn’t—­”

“My purchaser from Peoria,” said Joe, “and Gen. Pinkney are both creations of the same art—­but you wouldn’t call it either painting or music.”

And then they both laughed, and Joe began: 

“When one loves one’s Art no service seems—­”

But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips.  “No,” she said—­“just ‘When one loves.’”

THE COMING-OUT OF MAGGIE

Every Saturday night the Clover Leaf Social Club gave a hop in the hall of the Give and Take Athletic Association on the East Side.  In order to attend one of these dances you must be a member of the Give and Take—­or, if you belong to the division that starts off with the right foot in waltzing, you must work in Rhinegold’s paper-box factory.  Still, any Clover Leaf was privileged to escort or be escorted by an outsider to a single dance.  But mostly each Give and Take brought the paper-box girl that he affected; and few strangers could boast of having shaken a foot at the regular hops.

Maggie Toole, on account of her dull eyes, broad mouth and left-handed style of footwork in the two-step, went to the dances with Anna McCarty and her “fellow.”  Anna and Maggie worked side by side in the factory, and were the greatest chums ever.  So Anna always made Jimmy Burns take her by Maggie’s house every Saturday night so that her friend could go to the dance with them.

The Give and Take Athletic Association lived up to its name.  The hall of the association in Orchard street was fitted out with muscle-making inventions.  With the fibres thus builded up the members were wont to engage the police and rival social and athletic organisations in joyous combat.  Between these more serious occupations the Saturday night hop with the paper-box factory girls came as a refining influence and as an efficient screen.  For sometimes the tip went ’round, and if you were among the elect that tiptoed up the dark back stairway you might see as neat and satisfying a little welter-weight affair to a finish as ever happened inside the ropes.

On Saturdays Rhinegold’s paper-box factory closed at 3 P. M. On one such afternoon Anna and Maggie walked homeward together.  At Maggie’s door Anna said, as usual:  “Be ready at seven, sharp, Mag; and Jimmy and me’ll come by for you.”

But what was this?  Instead of the customary humble and grateful thanks from the non-escorted one there was to be perceived a high-poised head, a prideful dimpling at the corners of a broad mouth, and almost a sparkle in a dull brown eye.

“Thanks, Anna,” said Maggie; “but you and Jimmy needn’t bother to-night.  I’ve a gentleman friend that’s coming ’round to escort me to the hop.”

The comely Anna pounced upon her friend, shook her, chided and beseeched her.  Maggie Toole catch a fellow!  Plain, dear, loyal, unattractive Maggie, so sweet as a chum, so unsought for a two-step or a moonlit bench in the little park.  How was it?  When did it happen?  Who was it?