"This is work here, Jenny," said Pete, "by the Holy Mackinaw, I almos' forgot what work was at old Cultus'. Now she goes whoop!"
But he felt warm and good and kind.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, gal," he said, "but you was very bad las' night. Drink's no good. I won't drink no more."
"You very good to me," said Jenny meekly. "Whisky always makes me mad. I'm glad we're here. Indian Annie's bad, Pete."
"Cultus' ole cow," said Pete, with his mouth full, "but now we have our home, Jenny, my gal, and plenty work and forty dollar a month. I'm going to be a good man to you, my dear, and buy you big shelokum, lookin' glass."
Jenny's eyes gleamed. There was only a three-cornered fragment of glass nailed up against the wall, and it was hardly big enough to see her pretty nose in.
"Oh, Pete, that what I like. Oh, yes, Pete, a big one."
"High and long," said Pete firmly.
"Very high," screamed Jenny joyfully.
"So you see all your pretty self," smiled Pete. "I see one two yard high. I wonder how much."