Naw; I'm on I'm late all right, all right; but I couldn't help it, see!”

Chucky was thirty minutes behind our hour. I'd been sitting in the little bar in sickening controversy with one of the vile cigars of the place waiting for Chucky. For which cause I was moved to mention his dereliction sharply.

“Sorry to keep an old pal playin' sol'taire, wit' nothin' better to amuse him than d' len'th of rope youse is puffin',” continued Chucky in furtive excuse, “but I was to a weddin' an' couldn't breakaway. That's w'y I've got on me dress soote.

“Say! on d' dead! of course I ain't in on many nuptials; but all d' same I likes to go. I always comes away feelin' so wise an* flossy an* cooney. Why, I don't know, unless it's 'cause d' guys gettin' hitched looks so much like a couple of come-ons—so dead sure life is such a cinch, such a sight of confidence like one sees at a weddin', be d' parts of d' two suckers who's bein' starred, never omits to make me feel too cunnin' to live for d' whole week after.

“Sure! this weddin' was a good t'ing; what youse might call d' real t'ing; an' it's a spark to a rhinestone it toins out all hunk for d' folks involved. Who's d' two gezebos who gets nex' to each other? D' groom is d' boss gunner of one of our war boats, an 'd' skirt is d' cash goil in d' anti-Chink laundry on Great Jones street.

“An' say! that little skirt's a wonder, an' don't youse forget it! She's good any day for any old t'ing I've got; an' all she's got to do is just rap, an' she takes it, see! It was me Rag sees d' goil foist one time when she's down be d' laundry puttin' in me t'ree-sheets for their weekly dose of suds.

“Is me Rag an' me married? Say! I likes that, I don't t'ink! Youse is gettin' fanciful in your cupolo. 4 Be me little Bundle an' me married?' says you. Well, I should kiss a pig! Youse can take me tip for it, if we ain't man an' wife be d' longest system d' Cat'lic Choich could play—for me Rag told d' father who 'fficiates that we're out for d' limit—then all I got to stutter is there ain't a mug who's married in d' entire city of Noo York.

“Cert! we're married!” Chucky went on after cheering himself with the tankard which the barkeeper placed before him. “If youse had let your lamps repose on this horseshoe scar over d' bridge of me smeller, youse would have tumbled to d' fac wit'out astin'.

“How do I win it? I'm comin' up d' stairs like a sucker, just followin' a difference of opinion between me an' me loidy (I soaked her a little one, an' that's for fair! to show her she's off her trolley about d' subject in dispoote), when she cuts loose d' coal bucket at me. Say! she spoiled me map for a mont'.

“But to get back to d' little laundry goil. Me Rag, as I says, was in this tub-joint where d' goil woikswit' me linen one day; an' just as she chases in, a fresh stiff who's standin' there t'run some raw bluff at d' little laundry goil she couldn't stand for, see! an' she puts up a damp eye an' does d' weep act.

“This little laundry goil is one of them meek, harmless people—rabbits is bull-terriers to 'em—an' so when me onliest own beholds d' tears come chasin down her nose at d' remarks of this fly guy, she chucks me shirts in d' corner an' mounts him in a hully secont.

“An' say! me Rag can scrap, an' that's no dream! I don't want none of it. When she an' me has carried d' conversation to d' point where she takes out her hairpins, an' gives her mane to d' breeze, that's me cue to cork. Youse can't get another rise out of me after that: I knows her.

“Well! me Rag lights into this hobo who's got gay wit 'd' little goil, an' when she takes her hooks out of his make-up, an' he goes surgin' into d' street, honest! he looks like he's been fightin' a dog. Some lovers of true sport who's there an' payin' attention to d' mill, says this galoot wasn't in it wit' me Rag. She has him on d' blink from d' jump; she win in a loiter.

“Takin' her part that way makes d' little laundry goil confidenshul wit' me Rag. It's about two weeks later when she sprints over an' tells Missus Chuck (she makes her promise to lay dead about it, too, but still she passes d' woid to me)—she tells me Rag, as I'm sayin', that she's in trouble. Her steady, she says, is one of d' top notch gunners of one of our big boats; he's d' main squeeze in histurrent, see! an' way up in d' paint. His boat's been layin' at d' Navy Yard, an' now he's ordered to sail for Cuba in a week an' help straighten up d' Dagoes we're havin' d' recent run in wit'. Meanwhiles, she says, dey won't let her beloved have shore leave; an' neither dey won't stand for her to come aboard an' see him. There youse be! a case of dead sep'ration between two lovin' hearts.

“D' little laundry goil gives it out cold, she'll croak if she don't get to see her Billy before he skates off for d' wars. She says she knows he's out to be killed anyhow. D' question wit' her is—what's she goin' to do? Dey won't let her aboard d' boat, an' dey won't let him aboard d' land; now, what's d' soon move for her to make?

“Well, me Rag—who's got a nut on her for cert—says for her to skip down to Washin'ton an' go ag'inst d' Sec'tary himself.

“'Make him a strong talk,' says me Rag; 'give him a reg'lar razzle-dazzle, an' he'll write youse a poiper to them blokes aboard d' boat to let youse see your Billy.'

“'Do youse t'ink for sure he will?' says d' little laundry goil.

“'Why, it's a walkover!' says me Rag. 'If he toins out a hard game, give him d' tearful eye, see! an' cough a sob or two, an' he'll weaken! You can't miss it,' says me ownliest; 'it's easy money.'

“But d' little goil was awful leary of d' play.

“' Washin'ton is so far away,' she says.

“' It's like goin' to Harlem,' says me Rag. 'All youse has to do to go, is to take some sandwidges an' apples to sort o' jolly d' trip, an' then climb onto d' cars an' go. When d' Con. comes t'rough, pass him your pasteboard, see! an' if any of them smooth marks try to make a mash, t'run 'em down an' t'run 'em hard. I'll go over an' do your stunt at d' laundry, so that needn't give youse a scare. An' be d' way! if that lobster I win from d' other day shows up, I'll make a monkey of him ag'in. I didn't spend enough time wit' him on d' occasion of our mix-up, anyway.'

“At last d' little laundry goil makes d' brace of her life. She's so bashful an' timid she can't live; but she's dead stuck on seein' her Billy before he sails away, an' it gives her nerve. As I says, she takes me Rag's steer an' skins out for d' Cap'tal.

“An' what do youse t'ink? D' old mut who's Sec'tary won't chin wit' her. Toins her down cold, he does; gives her d' grand rinky-dink wit'out so much as findin' out what's her racket at all.

“At d' finish, however, d' little goil lands one of d' push—he's a cloik in d' office, I figgers—an' he hears her yarn between weeps, an' ups an' makes a pass or two, an' she gets d' writin'. It says to toin Billy loose every afternoon till d' boat pulls out.

“Say! him an 'd' little goil, when she gets back, was as happy as a couple of kids; dey has more fun than a box of monkeys. On d' level! I was proud of me Rag for floor managin' d' play. She wasn't solid wit' Billy an 'd' little goil! Oh, no!

“That's how me an' me loidy was in on this weddin' to-day wit' bot' trilbys. Me Rag's 'It' wit' d' little goil; youse can gamble on that!

“Of course d' war's over now, an' two weeks ago d' little goil's Billy comes home. An' what wit' pay, an' what wit' prize money, he hits d' Bend wit' a bundle of d' long green big enough to make youse t'row a fit, an' he ain't done a t'ing but boin money ever since.

“Nit; it ain't much of a story, but d' whole racket pleases me out o' sight, see! Considerin' d' hand me Rag plays, when I'm at that weddin' to-day I feels like a daddy to Billy an 'd' little goil. On d' level! I feels that chesty about it, that when d' priest is goin' to bat an says, 'Is there any duck here to give d' bride away?' I cuts in on d' game wit 'd' remark, 'I donates d' bride meself.' I s'pose I was struck dopey, or nutty, or somethin'.

“But me Rag fetches me to all c'rrect. She clinches her mit an' whispers:

“Let me catch youse makin' another funny break like that an' I'll cop a sneak on your neck.' An' then she stands there chewin' d' quiet rag an' pipin' me off wit' an eye of fire. 'Such an old bum as youse,' she says, 'is a disgrace to d' Bend.'”