As a final effort, the singer rendered some verses
which described a vision of Britain being annihilated
by America, and Ireland bursting her bonds.
A carefully prepared crisis was reached in the last
line of the last verse, where the singer threw out
her arms and cried, “The star-spangled banner.”
Instantly a great cheer swelled from the throats
of the assemblage of the masses. There was a
heavy rumble of booted feet thumping the floor.
Eyes gleamed with sudden fire, and calloused hands
waved frantically in the air.
After a few moments’ rest, the orchestra played
crashingly, and a small fat man burst out upon the
stage. He began to roar a song and stamp back
and forth before the foot-lights, wildly waving a
glossy silk hat and throwing leers, or smiles, broadcast.
He made his face into fantastic grimaces until he
looked like a pictured devil on a Japanese kite.
The crowd laughed gleefully. His short, fat
legs were never still a moment. He shouted and
roared and bobbed his shock of red wig until the audience
broke out in excited applause.
Pete did not pay much attention to the progress of
events upon the stage. He was drinking beer
and watching Maggie.
Her cheeks were blushing with excitement and her eyes
were glistening. She drew deep breaths of pleasure.
No thoughts of the atmosphere of the collar and cuff
factory came to her.
When the orchestra crashed finally, they jostled their
way to the sidewalk with the crowd. Pete took
Maggie’s arm and pushed a way for her, offering
to fight with a man or two.
They reached Maggie’s home at a late hour and
stood for a moment in front of the gruesome doorway.
“Say, Mag,” said Pete, “give us
a kiss for takin’ yeh teh deh show, will yer?”
Maggie laughed, as if startled, and drew away from
him.
“Naw, Pete,” she said, “dat wasn’t
in it.”
“Ah, what deh hell?” urged Pete.
The girl retreated nervously.
“Ah, what deh hell?” repeated he.
Maggie darted into the hall, and up the stairs.
She turned and smiled at him, then disappeared.
Pete walked slowly down the street. He had something
of an astonished expression upon his features.
He paused under a lamp-post and breathed a low breath
of surprise.
“Gawd,” he said, “I wonner if I’ve
been played fer a duffer.”
Chapter VIII
As thoughts of Pete came to Maggie’s mind, she
began to have an intense dislike for all of her dresses.
“What deh hell ails yeh? What makes yeh
be allus fixin’ and fussin’? Good
Gawd,” her mother would frequently roar at her.
She began to note, with more interest, the well-dressed
women she met on the avenues. She envied elegance
and soft palms. She craved those adornments
of person which she saw every day on the street, conceiving
them to be allies of vast importance to women.
Copyrights
Maggie, a Girl of the Streets from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.