Just Around the Corner Part 60

"Gee, ain't it swell enough just the way we are--just like it is, us knocking round together? I ain't your settling-down kind, sister. You're one little winner, and I like your style o' sweetness, but I ain't what you'd call a homesteader."

"Joe!"

"Sure; I mean it. I like you well enough to do any little thing your heart desires; but I never look far ahead, hon. I'm near-sighted."

"What--what about me?"

"I ain't got nothing saved up--not a dime. You tell your dame--you tell her we--we just understand each other. Huh? How's that? That's fair enough, ain't it?"

"Whatta you mean, Joe? You always say that; but please, Joe, please tell me what you mean?"

"Listen, kiddo. Say, listen to that trot they're playin', will you? Come on, sis; be a sport! To-morrow night we'll talk about anything your little heart desires. Come on, one round! Don't make me sore."

"Aw, no, Joe; I gotta go."

"One round, sweetness--see, I'll pay the check. See, two rounds round, and we'll light out for home. Look, they're all watchin' for us--two rounds, sweetness."

"One, you just said, Joe."

"One, then, little mouse."

They rose to the introductory t.i.tillation of violins; she slid into his embrace with a little fluid movement, and they slithered out on the s.h.i.+ning floor. A light murmur like the rustle of birds' wings went after them, and couples leaned from their tables to watch the perfect syncopation of their steps. His slightly crepuscular eyes took on the sheen of mica; the color ran high in her face, and her lips parted.

"They sit up and take notice when we slide out, don't they, little one?"

"Yes."

"Some cla.s.s to my trotting, ain't there, sweetness?"

"Yeh. Look, Joe; we gotta go after this round--it's nearly twelve."

"Twice round, sweetness, and then we go. If we ain't got the profesh beat on that Argentine Dip I'll give ten orchestra seats to charity and let any box-office in this town land me for what I'm worth."

"Joe!"

"Aw, I was only kiddin'. They got as much chance with me as a man with Saint Vitus's dance has of landing a trout. Gee, you're pretty to-night, sweetness!"

"Sweetness yourself!"

"Peaches and Cream!"

"Come on, Joe; this is twice round."

"Once more, sweetness--just once more! See, you got me hypnotized; my feet won't stop. See, they keep going and going. See, I can't stop.

Whoa! Whoa! Honest, I can't quit! Whoa! We gotta go round once more, sweetness. I--just--can't--stop!"

"Just once more, Joe."

At one o'clock the gas-flame in the hallway outside the rear third-floor apartment flared sootily and waned to a weary bead as the pressure receded. Through the opacity of the sudden fog the formal-faced door faded into the gloom, and Miss Essie Birdsong pushed the k.n.o.b stealthily inch by inch to save the squeak.

"Plunk-plunk-plunka-plunka-plunk-plunk! Essie?"

"'Sh-h-h-h! Yes, Jimmie--it's only me. Why you makin' that noise? Why's the light burning? What's--"

"Essie! Essie, is that you and--"

"Ma dearie, you--What's the matter? You ain't sick, are you?

What's--what's wrong, Jimmie? Please, what's wrong?"

She stood with her back to the door, her face struck with fear suddenly, as with white forked lightning, and her breath coming on every alternate heart-beat.

"Ma! Jimmie! For Gawd's sakes, what's the matter?"

The transitional falsetto of her brother's voice came to her gritty as slate scratching slate, and cold, p.r.i.c.kly flesh sprang out over her.

"Don't come in here! You--you and your friend stay out there a minute till ma kinda gets her breath back; she--she's all right--ain't you, ma?

You and your friend just wait just a minute, Ess."

"Me and---"

"Yeh; both of you wait. Nothing ain't wrong--is it, ma? There, just lay back on the pillow a minute, ma. Gwan; be a sport! Look, your cheek's all red from restin' on my shoulder so long. Lemme go a minute and bring Essie and her gen'l'man friend in to see you. Gee! After you been waitin' and waitin' you--you ain't goin' to give out the last minute.

There ain't nothin' to be scared about, ma. Lemme go in just a minute.

Here it is, ma; don't break it--seven years' bad luck for smas.h.i.+n' a hand-mirror. Here; you look swell, ma--swell!"

"Tell him it ain't like me to give out like this. Take them bottles and that ice away, Jimmie--throw my flowered wrapper over my shoulders.

There! Now tell him, Jimmie, it ain't like me."

"Surest thing, ma. Watch me!"

He emerged from the bedroom suddenly, his face twisted and his whispering voice like cold iron under the stroke of an anvil, and Essie trembled as she stood.

"Jimmie!"

"You--you devil, you! Where is he?"

She edged away from him with limbs that seemed as though they took root at every step and she must tear each foot from the carpet.

"To-morrow night he's comin' sure, Jimmie; he couldn't to-night, he--couldn't."

Jimmie's lips drew back from his gums as though too dry to cover them.

"You--you street-runner, you!"

"Jimmie!"

"You--you--you--"