Accordingly she laughed. The intruder lifted a woeful face, gave her one
vague look, and reverted to his former posture. Mayme stopped laughing.
She advanced and put a friendly hand on one of the humped shoulders.

"Cheer up, Buddy," she said. "It ain't as bad as you think it is."

"It's worse," gulped a choky voice. Then the head lifted again. "Who are
you?" it demanded.

"I'm your big sister," said Mayme reassuringly. "Tell a feller about
it."

The response was neither polite nor explanatory. "D---n sisters!" said
the bencher.

"Oh, tutt-_tutt_ and naughty-naughty!" rebuked Mayme. "Somebody's sister
been puttin' somethin' over on poor little Willy?"

"My own sister has." He was in that state of semi-hysterical exhaustion
in which revelation of one's intimate troubles to the first comer seems
natural. "She's gone and got arrested," he wailed.

Mayme's face became grave and practical.

"That's different," said she. "What's her lay?"

"Lay? I don't know--"

"What's her line? What's she done to get pinched?"