McTeague undertook the affair. It was an ordeal. Never in his life had
he been so perturbed, so horribly anxious. He called upon Trina the
following Wednesday and made arrangements. Mrs. Sieppe asked if little
August might be included. It would console him for the loss of his
steamboat.

"Sure, sure," said McTeague. "August too--everybody," he added, vaguely.

"We always have to leave so early," complained Trina, "in order to catch
the last boat. Just when it's becoming interesting."

At this McTeague, acting upon a suggestion of Marcus Schouler's,
insisted they should stay at the flat over night. Marcus and the dentist
would give up their rooms to them and sleep at the dog hospital. There
was a bed there in the sick ward that old Grannis sometimes occupied
when a bad case needed watching. All at once McTeague had an idea, a
veritable inspiration.

"And we'll--we'll--we'll have--what's the matter with having something
to eat afterward in my 'Parlors'?"

"Vairy goot," commented Mrs. Sieppe. "Bier, eh? And some damales."

"Oh, I love tamales!" exclaimed Trina, clasping her hands.

McTeague returned to the city, rehearsing his instructions over and
over. The theatre party began to assume tremendous proportions. First of
all, he was to get the seats, the third or fourth row from the front, on
the left-hand side, so as to be out of the hearing of the drums in the
orchestra; he must make arrangements about the rooms with Marcus, must