“Say, whatta you think I am?”
“Ever seen the sun rise, or took the time to look up and see several dozen or a couple of thousand or so stars glittering all at once?”
“Aw, come off! We ain’t doing teamwork in vaudeville.”
“Gee, wouldn’t I like to take you out and be the first one to make you acquainted with a few of the things that are happening beyond Sixth Avenue—if I ain’t too nervy, little missy?”
“I gotta go somewheres at two o’clock to-morrow afternoon, Mr.—Mr. Blaney; but I can go in the morning—if it ain’t going to look like I’m a freshie.”
“In the morning! Swell! But where—who—” She scribbled on a slip of paper and fluttered it into his hand. “Sara Juke! Some little name. Gee! I know right where you live. I know a lot of cases that come from round there. I used to live near there myself, round on Henry Street. I’ll call round at nine, little missy. I’m going to introduce you to the country, eh?”
“They won’t hurt at the clinic, will they, Mr. Blaney? I’m losing my nerve again.”
“Shame on a pretty little thing like you losing her nerve! Gee! I’ve seen ’em come in here all pale round the gills and with nothing but the whooping cough. There was a little girl in here last week who thought she was ready for Arizona on a canvas bed; and it wasn’t nothing but her rubber skirt-band had stretched. Shame on you, little missy! Don’t you get scared! Wait till you see what I’m going to show you out in the country to-morrow—leaves turning red and all. We’re going to have a heart-to-heart talk out there—eh? A regular lung-to-lung talk!”
“Aw, Mr. Blaney! Ain’t you killing!”
She hurried down the room, laughing.