"Cat got your tongue? Where's Cloonan?"
The child's little face quivered and screwed, each feature drawing itself into position for tears. Her eyes disappeared, her nostrils distended, her mouth opened to a quivering rectangle, and she fell into silent weeping.
"Aw, Jerry—you—you scared her! Come here, darling; come here to me,
Maisie; come, dearie."
But the child slid past the extended arms, down the wooden steps, and around a corner of the house, her arm held up across her eyes.
"Aw, Jerry, honest, you can be awful mean!"
"I'll get that out of her or know the reason why. They've poisoned her against me, that's about how it is in a nutshell. I'll get that pouting to be in that dirty Harlem hole with her mother and grandmother out of her or know the reason why."
"She—"
"Look, this is the front hall. Guess this 'ain't got that sty in Twenty-third Street beat some. Look! How do you like it? This way to the parlor and dining-room."
Sadie Barnet smiled through the shadows in her eyes.
"Jerry! Say, ain't this beau-tiful! A upright piano and gold, chairs and—Why, Jerry! why, Jerry!"