And that was a facer for Sadie. She'd been keeping a stiff lip up to this, but she came to the scratch wabbly in her voice. "You wouldn't want me to do that, would you?" says she.
"In justice to my maid, I must," says Mrs. Pell.
"Well," says Sadie, "if you're mean enough for that, I suppose I—"
But, say, I couldn't stay under cover any longer, with her bein' pushed down the chute in that style. I was wise to her game all right. She meant to stand up and take all that was coming, even if it put her down and out, just to keep the hooks off that kid brother of hers. And me loafin' back of the ropes with me hands in me pockets! I'd been a welcher, wouldn't I?
"Did I hear my cue?" says I, steppin' out into the lime-light.
It was a tableau, for fair. Me and Mrs. Purdy Pell didn't do anything but swap looks for a minute or so. I can't say just how pleased she was, but I've had better views. She wasn't any dainty, lily-of-the-valley sort. She was a good deal of a cabbage rose, I should say, and carried more or less weight for age. She had an arm on her like a fore-quarter of beef. I don't wonder that Purdy Pell skipped to Europe and didn't put in any answer when the proceedin's came up.
"No, he isn't," says Sadie, speakin' up brisk.
"That's right," says I; "but it was me brought your finger sparks back to light, ma'am."
"And where did you find them?" says Mrs. Pell, turnin' the third-degree stare on me.