first flute, from this time onwards, in a--pleasure park." He did not
tell her that there was no second flute or any other instrument save a
terrible piano, played by a black "professor"; he did not tell her
that "the park" was a beer-garden.

She rushed to him and threw her arms about his neck.

"We celebrate a little," he said grandly, and began to draw out of his
great-coat pockets the materials for a bona-fide dinner, for, knowing
that he could redeem it the next Saturday, he had put his watch in
pawn. They had not had real dinners lately. "M'riar, she will cook
it."

"My heye!" said M'riar, taking the first package, and, when he
followed it with others: "Ho, Hi sye!"

She had just come in from her uncannily quick dash across town--M'riar
had learned the simple key to New York's streets and rushed about them
without fear--to leave their new address for Mr. Vanderlyn. She felt,
therefore, that she had accomplished a good deed that day and was in
the very highest spirits. She went to work upon the supper with a will
and singing, which greatly distressed Kreutzer, although he would not
have expressed his pain for worlds.

"I work from six to eleven," he told his daughter, in explaining the
arrangement he had made. The manager had said that at eleven all
sober folks had gone and that those who still remained were all too
drunk to know if there was music or was not; but the old man did not
tell his daughter this. He hoped that she would never know how humble
and unpleasant the work which he had found must be.