"Betcher I know," taunted the bigger boy.
"Betcher yer don't."
"Do!"
"Don't!"
Another fight seemed imminent. But wisdom prevailed with Sammy. He would
not challenge fate a third time. "Come on, then, and see," he grunted.
And Ike followed. Off the two trudged, through the brilliantly lighted
streets, until they came to a part of the city where the ways were narrower
and dark.
"Huh! Knowed you was comin' here," commented Ike as they turned into a
grim, dirty alley.
Little Sam growled, "Didn't!" apparently as a matter of habit.
"Did!" reasserted Ike. "Just where I was comin' myself."
Sam turned to him with a grin.
"Was yer now? By--! Ain't that funny? I thought of it right off."
"Sure. Same here!"
They both burst into a guffaw and executed an impromptu double-shuffle of
delight. They were at the door of a tenement house with steep stairs
leading into darkness. Up three flights pounded the two pairs of heavy
boots, till they reached a half-open door, whence issued the clatter of a
sewing-machine and the voices of children. Sam stood on the threshold
grinning debonairly, with hands thrust into his pockets. Ike peered over
his shoulder, also grinning.
It was a meagre room into which they gazed, a room the chief furniture of
which seemed to be babies.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45