“Well, Kate, old gal, how are yer feelin'?” sez I, 'cause I had ter say sumthin'—I couldn't be standin' dere like a dead wun.
“Net very good, Chuck,” she sez. “Mock brought up de Chinee doctor an' he give me sumthin'—it's med'cine—it's dere in de stone jug, an' it's got me Head a-reelin'. I t'ink dere must be sumthin' in it dat makes me feel rocky.”
I see she wuz gettin' kind uv nutty—yer know dat Chinky med'cin' is funny stuff—so I tol' Peg ter turn out der beer an' give Kitty a glass ter take der taste uv der med'cin' out uv her t'rottle. So we all had a glass an' I tuk a glass over ter Mock an' asked him ter drink fer Happy New Year, but he sez:
“No, Chuck, I no dlinkee now; too muchee solly; you sabe. Kitty too muchee bimeby die.”
“Not on yer life, Mock,” sez I. “Kitty ain't goin' ter die. She's all ter de good. She looks like er boilermaker goin' ter work.”
“Me no t'ink so, Chuck,” he sez. “She too muchee dlink, an' too muchee smoke opium. Now she makee die.”
“Ah ferget it,” sez I, “she'll be all rite. See, she's laffin'; don't yer see her?”
De odder monk didn't screw his nut wunce w'ile we wuz chinnin'; he kep' rite on cookin' de opium pill over de sweet oil lamp fer anudder smoke, fer he didn't care if de w'ole worl' wuz on de bum, an' he wuz de Commiss'oner uv Char'ties an' got his graft. He lost sight uv us in de last pill he smoked, an' his lamps went out on him. Den Mock went up again de pipe himself an' went over to de foot uv de bed. De two bundles went out, an' I wuz sittin' dere like a tombstone, fiddlin' wid me fingers, an' t'inkin' w'ot a grate time de mob wuz havin'. Mock's pal went out lookin' as if he'd played de dead man's gig wid forty cents in stage money, an' in anudder minnit Mock was stretched out snorin' like a steam engin'. I got kind uv dopey meself, sittin' dere wid nobody ter chin ter, an' I played off inter a snooze. I don't know how long I wuz asleep, but de fi'st t'ing I knows, I woke up wid Kitty shakin' me. I t'ought she had a fit de way she wuz glarin' aroun' de room.
“Listen, Chuck, listen,” an' she grabbed me by der shoul'ers wid a grip like Jeffries.
Dere wuz a mob goin' past in de street singin' dat ol' song, “I Dream't Me Dear Ol' Mudder wuz er Queen.”