“Yes, many of them.  To me, I must say, they are worth nothing, as I don’t like the idea of mixing up church and state.  But Mr. Kling’s customers do, and if they choose to say their prayers before a chasuble on a priest’s back on Sunday and make a sofa cushion of it the next day, that is their affair, not mine.  And now, what else?  You spoke of some costumes this morning.”

“Yes, I did speak of my costumes, but I’m afraid they are too modern for you—­I make ’em up myself.  Get up, Jane, and let Mr. O’Day see what you’ve got on!”

Jane jumped to her feet, looking less Oriental than ever, her spangled veil having dropped about her shoulders, her red hair and freckled face now in full view.

“I think her dress is beautiful, Uncle Felix,” whispered Masie.

“Do you, sweetheart?  Well, then, maybe I might better look again.  What else have you in the way of Costumes, Mr. Ganger?”

Dogger stepped up.  “He hasn’t got a single thing worth a cent; he buys these pieces down in Elizabeth Street, out of push-carts, and Jane Hoggson’s mother sews them together.  But, my deary”—­here he laid his hand on Masie’s head—­“would you like to see some real ones, all-gold-and-silver lace—­and satin shoes —­and big, high bonnets with feathers?”

Masie clapped her hands in answer and began whirling about the room, her way of telling everybody that she was too happy to keep still.

“Well, wait here; I won’t be a minute.”

“Sam’s fallen in love with her, too,” muttered Ganger, “and I don’t blame him.  Come here, you darling, and let me talk to you.  Do you know you are the first little girl that’s ever been inside this place for ever—­ and ever and ever—­so long?  Think of that, will you?  Not one single little girl since—­ Oh, well, I just can’t remember—­it’s such an awful long time.  Dreadful, isn’t it?  Hear that old Sam stumbling down-stairs!  Now let’s see what he brings you.”

Dogger’s arms were full.  “I’ve a silk dress,” he puffed, “and a ruffled petticoat, and a great leghorn hat—­and just look at these feathers, and you never saw such a pair of slippers and silk stockings!  And now let’s try ’em on!”

The child uttered a little scream of delight.  “Oh, Uncle Felix!  Isn’t it lovely?  Can’t I have them?  Please, Uncle Felix!” she cried, both hands around his shirt collar in supplication.

“Take ’em all, missy,” shouted Sam.  Then, turning to Felix:  “They belonged to an actor who hired half of my studio and left them to pay for his rent, which they didn’t do, not by a long chalk, and—­ Oh, here’s another hat—­and, oh, such a lovely old cloak!  Yes, take ’em all, missy—­I’m glad to get rid of ’em—­before Nat claps them on Jane and goes in for Puritan maidens and Lady Gay Spankers.  Oh, I know you, Nat!  I wouldn’t trust you out of my sight!  Take ’em along, I say.”  He stopped and turned toward Felix again.