"Come on, little girl," he said. "You can dance all right. If my wife wasn't here I'd show you a time."
The squaw stiffened and the monk swung her away from Jack, who immediately arrested old Dad Robins, the night watchman, who was taking a sly peak off his beat at the festivities. Henderson forced the delighted old man through a waltz, with himself as a very languishing partner.
The hobo, dancing with one of the flower girls, said: "Jane, I've been trying to get a chance to warn you not to say anything to Mrs. Penelope about that deal with Freet. I was a fool to let you see that letter tonight. Now I'm getting into national politics, you've got to learn to keep your mouth shut."
"How'd you know me?" whispered the flower girl.
"You don't dance as good as Mrs. Pen," he replied.
Here the monk stole the flower girl and danced off with her, firmly.
"Remember the dance at Coney Island and how mean you were to me?" he whispered.
"And how bossy and high-handed you were about the bathing? How did you know me?"
The monk hugged the flower girl to him. "You haven't lived in my heart for all these years without my getting to know you!"
And the flower girl sighed ecstatically.