Out of the
thumb-hole stuck half a dozen brushes wired together in a round bunch
and covered with gilt paint. The clock never was wound. It went so fast
that it was useless as a timepiece. Over it, however, hung a large and
striking picture, a species of cheap photogravure, a lion lying in his
cage, looking mildly at the spectator over his shoulder. In front of the
picture were real iron bars, with real straw tucked in behind them.
Ida sat down on the piano stool, twisting back and forth, leaning her
elbows on the keys.
"All the folks have gone out to a whist-party, and I'm left all alone in
the house with Maggie," she said. Then she added: "Bessie and Bandy
Ellis said they would come down to-night, and I thought we could all go
downtown to the Tivoli or somewhere, in the open-air boxes, you know,
way up at the top." Hardly had she spoken the words when Bessie and
Ellis arrived.
Ida went upstairs to get on her hat at once, because it was so late, and
Bessie went with her.
Ellis and Vandover laughed as soon as they saw each other, and Ellis
exclaimed mockingly, "Ye-e-ow, thash jush way I feel.
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