'My Johnny is a Shoemakiyure,' and wanted me to try it on the organ. But
it reminded me how we used to get just sick of singing it on and off the
boards, and I couldn't touch it. He wanted me to go to the circus that
was touring over at the cross roads, but it was the old Flanigin's
circus, you know, the one Gussie Riggs used to ride in, with its old
clown and its old ringmaster and the old 'wheezes,' and I chucked it."

"Look here," said Jack, rising and surveying Mrs. Rylands critically.
"If you go on at this gait, I'll tell you what that man of yours will
do. He'll bolt with some of your old friends!"

She turned a quick, scared face upon him for an instant. But only for
an instant. Her hysteric little laugh returned, at once, followed by her
weary, worried look. "No, Jack, you don't know him! If it was only that!
He cares only for me in his own way,--and," she stammered as she went
on, "I've no luck in making him happy."

She stopped. The wind shook the house and fired a volley of rain
against the windows. She took advantage of it to draw a torn lace-edged
handkerchief from her pocket behind, and keeping the tail of her eyes in
a frightened fashion on Jack, applied the handkerchief furtively, first
to her nose, and then to her eyes.

"Don't do that," said Jack fastidiously, "it's wet enough outside."
Nevertheless, he stood up and gazed at her.

"Well," he began.

She timidly drew nearer to him, and took a seat on the kitchen table,
looking up wistfully into his eyes.