Joe here thought it time for him to put in a word.  “Get out, Hat,” he said contemptuously; “you ’re good for a dozen years yet.”

She did n’t deign to notice him, save so far as a sniff goes.

“Don’t you let what I say scare you, though, Kitty.  You ’ve got a good chance, and maybe you ’ll have more sense than I ’ve got, and at least save money—­while you ’re in it.  But let ’s get off that.  It makes me sick.  All you ’ve got to do is to come to the opera-house to-morrow and I ’ll introduce you to the manager.  He ’s a fool, but I think we can make him do something for you.”

“Oh, thank you, I ’ll be around to-morrow, sure.”

“Better come about ten o’clock.  There ’s a rehearsal to-morrow, and you ’ll find him there.  Of course, he ’ll be pretty rough, he always is at rehearsals, but he ’ll take to you if he thinks there ’s anything in you and he can get it out.”

Kitty felt herself dismissed and rose to go.  Joe did not rise.

“I ‘ll see you later, Kit,” he said; “I ain’t goin’ just yet.  Say,” he added, when his sister was gone, “you ’re a hot one.  What do you want to give her all that con for?  She ’ll never get in.”

“Joe,” said Hattie, “don’t you get awful tired of being a jackass?  Sometimes I want to kiss you, and sometimes I feel as if I had to kick you.  I ’ll compromise with you now by letting you bring me some more beer.  This got all stale while your sister was here.  I saw she did n’t like it, and so I would n’t drink any more for fear she ’d try to keep up with me.”

“Kit is a good deal of a jay yet,” Joe remarked wisely.

“Oh, yes, this world is full of jays.  Lots of ’em have seen enough to make ’em wise, but they ’re still jays, and don’t know it.  That ’s the worst of it.  They go around thinking they ’re it, when they ain’t even in the game.  Go on and get the beer.”

And Joe went, feeling vaguely that he had been sat upon.

Kit flew home with joyous heart to tell her mother of her good prospects.  She burst into the room, crying, “Oh, ma, ma, Miss Hattie thinks I ’ll do to go on the stage.  Ain’t it grand?”

She did not meet with the expected warmth of response from her mother.

“I do’ know as it ‘ll be so gran’.  F’om what I see of dem stage people dey don’t seem to ’mount to much.  De way dem gals shows demse’ves is right down bad to me.  Is you goin’ to dress lak dem we seen dat night?”

Kit hung her head.

“I guess I ’ll have to.”

“Well, ef you have to, I ’d ruther see you daid any day.  Oh, Kit, my little gal, don’t do it, don’t do it.  Don’t you go down lak yo’ brothah Joe.  Joe ’s gone.”

“Why, ma, you don’t understand.  Joe ’s somebody now.  You ought to ’ve heard how Miss Hattie talked about him.  She said he ’s been her friend for a long while.”

“Her frien’, yes, an’ his own inimy.  You need n’ pattern aftah dat gal, Kit.  She ruint Joe, an’ she ’s aftah you now.”