She smiled back at his "Jennie"; that was always her name on such occasions. "It isn't about Oolong?" she asked, in burlesque anxiety.
"No."
"Well, then, is it the—Sisters?"
"Not the Sisters. They were in last week."
"Guess again, then," said Jane, perseveringly. "Is it—is it the
Benevolent Policemen?"
"No, not the Policemen. They won't be around for a month yet."
Her hand dropped to his shoulder and her eyes searched his. To another they might have seemed staring; to him they were only intent. "Poor pa; he's like a ten-pin standing at the end of the alley, isn't he? They all take a turn at him, don't they?"
"I'm afraid that's about it, Jennie." He smiled rather wanly again and smoothed her hand with his own.
"Well, what else is there?" pondered Jane. "Is it the Afro-American bishop raising the mortgage on their chapel?"
"No. I guess the Afro-Americans have about paid things off by this time."