on the top floor. Jan was thrilled by alluring glimpses of her in the
half-dark recesses of the back halls, but the glimpses remained only
glimpses after he saw her one Sunday by daylight. Only then was Jan
convinced that she painted. She was a little too much and he took to
dodging her. Yet it was a pity--oh, a pity! and Jan, still thinking what
a pity, was going out for a lonesome walk one night, when who should
meet him on the front stoop but that same top-floor girl! And no sliding
by her this time. She nipped the lapel of his coat with a dexterous
thumb and forefinger.

"Why, hello, cap! Where yuh goin'?"

"Nowheres."

"Then you got time, ain't you, to buy a girl a glass o'--" She stopped
and winked sportively.

"Glass o' what?"

"Why, ginger ale!" She laughed at his surprise. "You thought I was goin'
to say beer, or maybe somethin' stronger, didn't yuh? But I don't drink
no hard stuff. No. An' I was dyin' for a drink o' somethin' when yuh
pops out that door. An' I know yuh ain't any hinge."

"How do you know I ain't a hinge?"

"Oh, don't I? Leave it to me to pick a sport from a piker."

"But I'm no sport either."