"Knickerbocker," I said earnestly, "Father Knickerbocker,
don't you know that something _is_ happening, that this
very evening as we are sitting here in all this riot,
the President of the United States is to come before
Congress on the most solemn mission that ever--"

But my speech fell unheeded. Knickerbocker had picked up
his glass again and was leering over it at a bevy of
girls dancing upon the stage.

"Look at that girl," he interrupted quickly, "the one
dancing at the end. What do you think of her, eh? Some
peach!"

Knickerbocker broke off suddenly. For at this moment our
ears caught the sound of a noise, a distant tumult, as
it were, far down the street and growing nearer. The old
man had drawn himself erect in his seat, his hand to his
ear, listening as he caught the sound.

"Out on the Broad Way," he said, instinctively calling
it by its ancient name as if a flood of memories were
upon him. "Do you hear it? Listen--listen--what is it?
I've heard that sound before--I've heard every sound on
the Broad Way these two centuries back--what is it? I
seem to know it!"

The sound and tumult as of running feet and of many voices
crying came louder from the street. The people at the
tables had turned in their seats to listen. The music of