"
Mac's bright bold eyes scanned Nance curiously. "Where have I seen you
before?" he asked instantly.
"Don't you recognize her?" said Monte. "She's the little bear! I'd know
that smile in ten thousand!"
Nance presented him with one on the spot, out of gratitude for the
diversion. She was already sharing Birdie's wish that no reference be
made to Calvary Alley or the factory. They had no place in this
rose-colored world.
Monte and the two girls had descended the steps to the street when the
former looked over his shoulder.
"Why doesn't Mac come on?" he asked. "Who is the old party he is
arguing with?"
"Oh, Lord! It's old man Demry," exclaimed Birdie in exasperation. "He
plays in the orchestra. Full of dope half of the time. Why don't Mac come
on and leave him?"
But the old musician was not to be left. He pushed past Mac and,
staggering down the steps, laid his hand on Nance's arm.
"You must come home with me, Nancy," he urged unsteadily. "I want to talk
to you. Want to tell you something."
"See here!" broke in Mac Clarke, peremptorily, "is this young lady your
daughter?"
Mr. Demry put his hand to his dazed head and looked from one to the other
in troubled uncertainty.
"No," he said incoherently. "I had a daughter once. But she is much older
than this child. She must be nearly forty by now, and to think I haven't
seen her face for twenty-two years. I shouldn't even know her if I should
see her. I couldn't make shipwreck of her life, you know--shipwreck of
one you love best in the world!"
"Oh, come ahead!" called Birdie from below.
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