Hepsey gazed calmly at her victim and replied:
“I wouldn’t, if I was in your place.”
“Well then, I give you fair warning I’ll put you out myself if you don’t go peaceable in five minutes.”
“No, Silas; you’re wrong as usual. You can’t put me out of here until I’m ready to go. I could wring you out like a mop, and drop you down a knot-hole, and nobody’d be the wiser.”
The door now opened slowly and a small girl, miserably clad, entered the saloon. Her head was covered 198 with a worn, soiled shawl. From underneath the shawl she produced a battered tin pail and placed it on the bar with the phlegmatic remark, “Pa wants a quart of beer.”
Mrs. Burke looked at the girl and then at Bingham, and then back at the girl inquiringly.
“Are you in the habit of gettin’ beer here, child?”
“Sure thing!” the girl replied, cheerfully.
“How old are you?”
“Ten, goin’ on eleven.”