The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1904-05-04

cunning look. "Doyers street and the
long pipe dreams"
The chief threw himself back In his
chair, disgustedly. The electric fan
whirred upon the shelf above his
head, fluttering the loose desk papers,
and twisting awry the coarse red locks
about The Rats forehead. Otherwise
1t was very still, and it was also very
warm. They had taken the bracelets
of the prisoner, and he sat twiddling
his greasy felt hat between uncertain
thumbs. The chief chewed an un.
lighted cigar and walked to the open
window. AS he stood gazing gloomily
down into the gray courtyard, there
came the sudden fiourishing notes Of a
street piano, playing to the urchins
from Mott street on the strip of as
phalt beyond. He could hear the echo
Of the happy children's voices while
they focked to the music box. He
knew just how it looked, although the
dirty brick wall hid 1t from him.
There was the smiling.faced Italian
girl with the tambourine, gathering
the nickels from the idlers strung pre-.
cariously along the iron basement
railing, watching the dancing. Even
the nurses from st. Barnabas's Home
next door were peeping appreciatively
out of the downstairs windows, The
piano was finishing the final bars of
the intermezzo from "Cavalleria Rus
ticana," left over from the last stop
ping place on Elizabeth street. The
chief wondered why.
Then here was quick pause as the
man at the crank turned the change
stop, and a gay waltz tune floated over
the brick wall into the courtyard. BY
the shrill little cries of delight that
followed it, the chief knew the chill
dren were dancing. He turned away
from the window dejectedly. The piano
rasped upon his nerves. AS he turned
he saw the Rat sitting upon the edge of
the chair, his head raised towards
the sound of the playing, and swaying
to the echoing rhythm. The CHIEF
stared for an instant and then slid
softly into his seat behind the desk,
as the street piano rippled:
There's just one girl in the world for
me.
Only one girl has my sym.pa.thee.
She's not so very pretty, nor yet Of
high degree,
But there's just one girl in this world
for me-"
The Rat was mumbling to himself
| and smiling as If he were remember
ing something pleasant. His lips were
curled back to the gums, and his en-.
joyment was not edifying, and when
his gaze wandered past that of the
chief, the head of the Detective Bu-
reau knew that 1t penetrated the gray
cartridge paper Of the wall behind
him, and knew, too, that The Rats
mood was far flung. The man was
still jerking his head with the staccato
tempo Of the piano.
"Coney. Coney and two camp-stools
on the deck by the dago fidlers both
ways" he muttered. He said it
aloud, but it was as If he were talking
to himself. The chiefs hand moved
towards the electric push-button and
then paused irresolute. The outpour-
ing notes Of the street piano trickled
like cool water through the room
closeness.
"Coney in the summertime" repeat
ed The Rat vacuously. IT'S Gods
own country. Coney f'r me OF a Sun.
day afternoon wit the sunshine and
the trolleys jamful IS the limit, what"
He swelled out his sparrow chest
proudly towards the playing: "S the
limit" he chuckled. wit a shine
and a new celluroid rim on and nickel
stogie in yer transom, yer on f'r yer
money, and yer it. Say, I've danced
in Stauchs wit Name
The Rats voice softened almost
imperceptibly, but the chief caught
the change and gripped the sides of
his chair, breathing irregularly as II
afraid to break the SPELL
There was q job Of dishwashin' at
the Tivoli; six plunks comm reg'lar
every week wit now and then a small
pix in the pool room over the Volks
Garden. ] was wearin' real clothes
and ! made good. 1t was me swell
front what won out wit Name.
wasn't pretty, but me front sent me
home in canter. And Name WASH I
no chowder party pal. She'd a mem'ry
overnight and good eye f'r a white
man. And the man what says she
was struck on Dutch" Gallagher's q
liar.
There's just one girl in this world
for me-" rippled the piano from out.
side, with a final burst of treble
Then the music ceased suddenly with
the hollow knock the lid of a box
makes when it is let fall. And at the
sound, The Rats head dropped upon
his breast again.
The chiefs right hand crept slowly
to the pencil tray and scrawled a few
words upon piece of paper which he
gently tore from yellow pad. "Keer
the Quincy playing. Don't let him
STOP the pencil traced. He looked
furtively at The Rat. The little mans
head was still sunken upon his solled
waistcoat, and he did not notice when