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Updated: August 14, 2024
I thought that I detected a pathetic little gleam of disappointment in Mayme's deep eyes. "He's done it," said the Little Red Doctor. And I was sorry for him, so much was there of tragic envy in his face. "Did you give him your blessing?" I asked. "I did. He shook hands like a man. There's maybe something in that boy, if it weren't for the old hell-cat of a mother.
He was in that state of semi-hysterical exhaustion in which revelation of one's intimate troubles to the first comer seems natural. "She's gone and got arrested," he wailed. Mayme's face became grave and practical. "That's different," said she. "What's her lay?" "Lay? I don't know " "What's her line? What's she done to get pinched?" "Shoplifting. At the special night sale of the Emporium."
"There are times, Dominie, when your mind has real penetrative power. Think it over." "The Weeping Scion of Wealth and Position!" I cried. "Did our medical friend blackmail him?" "Not necessarily. He only dropped a hint that Mayme's chance here was rather poorer than a soldier's going to war, unless something could be done and the Weeping Scion fairly begged to be allowed to do it.
The result went far to justify my prophecy that Mayme's queer little face might yet make its share of trouble in an impressionable world.
Judge, then, of our dismay, locally, at learning, not a fortnight later, from a fellow employee of Mayme's, that she had been met at closing time by a swell young guy in a cherry-colored rattler, who took her away to dine with him.
Berthelin and her progeny that she was in the presence of the Great. Capacity for awe was not in Mayme's independent soul. But she was interested and sympathetic. Here was a career worth saving! "Let's go over to the station-house," said she. "I know some of the cops." To the white building with the green lanterns they went. The shoplifting case, it appeared, had already been bailed out.
"Let me out of here," he growled. "David!" said his mother. "Where are you going?" "To enlist." "Davey!" It was a shriek. "You shan't." "I will." "I won't let you." "You can go to " "Buddy!" Mayme's voice, magically softened, broke in. "Cut out the rough stuff. You better go home and think it over. Bein' a private is no pink-silk picnic."
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