Joe felt as if the "chillen" had ruined all his hopes, but Kitty rose.

The ingratiating "N' Yawker" was aghast.

"Oh, let 'em stay," said Mrs. Jones heartily; "a little beer ain't goin'
to hurt 'em. Why, sakes, I know my father gave me beer from the time I
could drink it, and I knows I ain't none the worse fu' it."

"They 'll git out o' that, all right, if they live in N' Yawk," said Mr.
Thomas, as he poured out a glass and handed it to Joe. "You neither?"

"Oh, I drink it," said the boy with an air, but not looking at his
mother.

"Joe," she cried to him, "you must ricollect you ain't at home. What 'ud
yo' pa think?" Then she stopped suddenly, and Joe gulped his beer and
Kitty went to the piano to relieve her embarrassment.

"Yes, that 's it, Miss Kitty, sing us something," said the irrepressible
Thomas, "an' after while we 'll have that fellah down that plays
'Rag-time.' He 's out o' sight, I tell you."

With the pretty shyness of girlhood, Kitty sang one or two little songs
in the simple manner she knew. Her voice was full and rich. It delighted
Mr. Thomas.

"I say, that 's singin' now, I tell you," he cried. "You ought to have
some o' the new songs. D' jever hear 'Baby, you got to leave'? I tell
you, that 's a hot one. I 'll bring you some of 'em. Why, you could git