An orchestra of yellow silk women and bald-headed men on anelevated stage near the centre of a great green-hued hall, playeda popular waltz. The place was crowded with people groupedabout little tables. A battalion of waiters slid among the throng,carrying trays of beer glasses and making change from theinexhaustible vaults of their trousers pockets. Little boys, inthe costumes of French chefs, paraded up and down the irregularaisles vending fancy cakes. There was a low rumble of conversationand a subdued clinking of glasses. Clouds of tobacco smoke rolledand wavered high in air about the dull gilt of the chandeliers.

The vast crowd had an air throughout of having just quittedlabor. Men with calloused hands and attired in garments thatshowed the wear of an endless trudge for a living, smoked theirpipes contentedly and spent five, ten, or perhaps fifteen cents forbeer. There was a mere sprinkling of kid-gloved men who smokedcigars purchased elsewhere. The great body of the crowd wascomposed of people who showed that all day they strove with theirhands. Quiet Germans, with maybe their wives and two or threechildren, sat listening to the music, with the expressions of happycows. An occasional party of sailors from a war-ship, their facespictures of sturdy health, spent the earlier hours of the eveningat the small round tables. Very infrequent tipsy men, swollen withthe value of their opinions, engaged their companions in earnestand confidential conversation. In the balcony, and here and therebelow, shone the impassive faces of women. The nationalities ofthe Bowery beamed upon the stage from all directions.

Pete aggressively walked up a side aisle and took seats withMaggie at a table beneath the balcony.

"Two beehs!"

Leaning back he regarded with eyes of superiority the scenebefore them. This attitude affected Maggie strongly. A man whocould regard such a sight with indifference must be accustomed tovery great things.

It was obvious that Pete had been to this place many timesbefore, and was very familiar with it. A knowledge of this factmade Maggie feel little and new.

He was extremely gracious and attentive. He displayed theconsideration of a cultured gentleman who knew what was due.

"Say, what deh hell? Bring deh lady a big glass! What dehhell use is dat pony?"

"Don't be fresh, now," said the waiter, with some warmth, ashe departed.

"Ah, git off deh eart'," said Pete, after the other'sretreating form.

Maggie perceived that Pete brought forth all his elegance andall his knowledge of high-class customs for her benefit. Her heartwarmed as she reflected upon his condescension.

The orchestra of yellow silk women and bald-headed men gavevent to a few bars of anticipatory music and a girl, in a pinkdress with short skirts, galloped upon the stage. She smiled uponthe throng as if in acknowledgment of a warm welcome, and began towalk to and fro, making profuse gesticulations and singing, inbrazen soprano tones, a song, the words of which were inaudible. When she broke into the swift rattling measures of a chorus somehalf-tipsy men near the stage joined in the rollicking refrain andglasses were pounded rhythmically upon the tables. People leanedforward to watch her and to try to catch the words of the song. When she vanished there were long rollings of applause.

Obedient to more anticipatory bars, she reappeared amidst thehalf-suppressed cheering of the tipsy men. The orchestra plungedinto dance music and the laces of the dancer fluttered and flew inthe glare of gas jets. She divulged the fact that she was attiredin some half dozen skirts. It was patent that any one of themwould have proved adequate for the purpose for which skirts areintended. An occasional man bent forward, intent upon the pinkstockings. Maggie wondered at the splendor of the costume and lostherself in calculations of the cost of the silks and laces.

The dancer's smile of stereotyped enthusiasm was turned forten minutes upon the faces of her audience. In the finale she fellinto some of those grotesque attitudes which were at the timepopular among the dancers in the theatres up-town, giving to theBowery public the phantasies of the aristocratic theatre-goingpublic, at reduced rates.

"Say, Pete," said Maggie, leaning forward, "dis is great."

"Sure," said Pete, with proper complacence.

A ventriloquist followed the dancer. He held two fantasticdolls on his knees. He made them sing mournful ditties and sayfunny things about geography and Ireland.

"Do dose little men talk?" asked Maggie.

"Naw," said Pete, "it's some damn fake. See?"

Two girls, on the bills as sisters, came forth and sang a duetthat is heard occasionally at concerts given under church auspices. They supplemented it with a dance which of course can neverbe seen at concerts given under church auspices.

After the duettists had retired, a woman of debatable age sanga negro melody. The chorus necessitated some grotesque waddlingssupposed to be an imitation of a plantation darkey, under theinfluence, probably, of music and the moon. The audience was justenthusiastic enough over it to have her return and sing a sorrowfullay, whose lines told of a mother's love and a sweetheart whowaited and a young man who was lost at sea under the most harrowingcircumstances. From the faces of a score or so in the crowd, theself-contained look faded. Many heads were bent forward witheagerness and sympathy. As the last distressing sentiment of thepiece was brought forth, it was greeted by that kind of applausewhich rings as sincere.

As a final effort, the singer rendered some verses whichdescribed a vision of Britain being annihilated by America, andIreland bursting her bonds. A carefully prepared crisis wasreached in the last line of the last verse, where the singer threwout her arms and cried, "The star-spangled banner." Instantly agreat cheer swelled from the throats of the assemblage of themasses. There was a heavy rumble of booted feet thumping thefloor. Eyes gleamed with sudden fire, and calloused hands wavedfrantically in the air.

After a few moments' rest, the orchestra played crashingly,and a small fat man burst out upon the stage. He began to roar asong and stamp back and forth before the foot-lights, wildly wavinga glossy silk hat and throwing leers, or smiles, broadcast. Hemade his face into fantastic grimaces until he looked like apictured devil on a Japanese kite. The crowd laughed gleefully. His short, fat legs were never still a moment. He shouted androared and bobbed his shock of red wig until the audience broke outin excited applause.

Pete did not pay much attention to the progress of events uponthe stage. He was drinking beer and watching Maggie.

Her cheeks were blushing with excitement and her eyes wereglistening. She drew deep breaths of pleasure. No thoughts of theatmosphere of the collar and cuff factory came to her.

When the orchestra crashed finally, they jostled their way tothe sidewalk with the crowd. Pete took Maggie's arm and pushed away for her, offering to fight with a man or two.

They reached Maggie's home at a late hour and stood for amoment in front of the gruesome doorway.

"Say, Mag," said Pete, "give us a kiss for takin' yeh teh dehshow, will yer?"

Maggie laughed, as if startled, and drew away from him.

"Naw, Pete," she said, "dat wasn't in it."

"Ah, what deh hell?" urged Pete.

The girl retreated nervously.

"Ah, what deh hell?" repeated he.

Maggie darted into the hall, and up the stairs. She turnedand smiled at him, then disappeared.

Pete walked slowly down the street. He had something of anastonished expression upon his features. He paused under a lamp-post and breathed a low breath of surprise.

"Gawd," he said, "I wonner if I've been played fer a duffer."