back, short skirt, stout shoes, and gray yarn stockings.

"I don't care where it is--Hoboken, Brooklyn--I'll
get it. Why, we got a trunk last week clear from
Yonkers!"

"I haven't a doubt of it, my good woman"--he
was still absorbed in the contemplation of her perfect
health and the air of breezy competency flowing
out from her, making even the morning air seem more
exhilarating--"but you may not want to go for my
two trunks."

"Why not?" She was serious now, her brows knitting,
trying to solve his meaning.

Kling shuffled up alongside. "It's de room he vants,
Kitty. I been tellin' him about it. Bobby says dot
odder man skipped an' you don't got nobody now.

"Skipped! I threw him out, me and John, for
swearin' every time he stubbed his toe on the stairs,"
and up went her strong arms in illustration. "And it
isn't yer trunks, but me room. Who might ye be
wantin' it for?" She had begun to weigh him carefully
in return. Up to this moment he had been to her
merely the mouthpiece of an order, to be exchanged
later for a card, or slip of paper, or a brass check. Now
he became a personality. She swept him from head to
foot with one of her "sizing-up" examinations, noticing