The Man With Two Left Feet

do a solo dance in; and while some of them cussed the play considerable, they all gave Katie a nice word. One feller said that she was like cold water on the morning after, which is high praise coming from a newspaper man.
    There wasn't a doubt about it. She was a success. You see, she was something new, and London always sits up and takes notice when you give it that.
    There were pictures of her in the papers, and one evening paper had a piece about 'How I Preserve My Youth' signed by her. I cut it out and showed it to Andy.
    He gave it a look. Then he gave me a look, and I didn't like his eye.
    'Well?' he says.
    'Pardon,' I says.
    'What about it?' he says.
    'I don't know,' I says.
    'Get back to your work,' he says.
    So I got back.
    It was that same night that the queer thing happened.
    We didn't do much in the supper line at MacFarland's as a rule in them days, but we kept open, of course, in case Soho should take it into its head to treat itself to a welsh rabbit before going to bed; so all hands was on deck, ready for the call if it should come, at half past eleven that night; but we weren't what you might term sanguine.
    Well, just on the half–hour, up drives a taxicab, and in comes a party of four. There was a nut, another nut, a girl, and another girl. And the second girl was Katie.
    'Hallo, Uncle Bill!' she says.
    'Good evening, madam,' I says dignified, being on duty.
    'Oh, stop it, Uncle Bill,' she says. 'Say "Hallo!" to a pal, and smile prettily, or I'll tell them about the time you went to the White City.'
    Well, there's some bygones that are best left bygones, and the night at the White City what she was alluding to was one of them. I still maintain, as I always shall maintain, that the constable had no right to—but, there, it's a story that wouldn't interest you. And, anyway, I was glad to see Katie again, so I give her a smile.
    'Not so much of it,' I says. 'Not so much of it. I'm glad to see you, Katie.'
    'Three cheers! Jimmy, I want to introduce you to my friend, Uncle Bill. Ted, this is Uncle Bill. Violet, this is Uncle Bill.'
    It wasn't my place to fetch her one on the side of the head, but I'd of liked to have; for she was acting like she'd never used to act when I knew her—all tough and bold. Then it come to me that she was nervous. And natural, too, seeing young Andy might pop out any moment.
    And sure enough out he popped from the back room at that very instant. Katie looked at him, and he looked at Katie, and I seen his face get kind of hard; but he didn't say a word. And presently he went out again.
    I heard Katie breathe sort of deep.
    'He's looking well, Uncle Bill, ain't he?' she says to me, very soft.
    'Pretty fair,' I says. 'Well, kid, I been reading the pieces in the papers. You've knocked 'em.'
    'Ah, don't Bill,' she says, as if I'd hurt her. And me meaning only to say the civil thing. Girls are rum.
    When the party had paid their bill and give me a tip which made me think I was back at the Guelph again—only there weren't any Dick Turpin of a head waiter standing by for his share—they hopped it. But Katie hung back and had a word with me.
    'He
was
looking well, wasn't he, Uncle Bill?'
    'Rather!'
    'Does—does he ever speak of me?'
    'I ain't heard him.'
    'I suppose he's still pretty angry with me, isn't he, Uncle Bill? You're sure you've never heard him speak of me?'
    So, to cheer her up, I tells her about the piece in the paper I showed him; but it didn't seem to cheer her up any. And she goes out.
    The very next night in she come again for supper, but with different nuts and different girls. There was six of them this time, counting her. And they'd hardly sat down at their table, when in come the fellers she had called Jimmy and Ted with two girls. And they sat eating of their suppers and chaffing one another across the floor, all as pleasant and sociable as you please.
    'I say, Katie,' I heard one of the nuts say, 'you were right. He's worth the price of admission.'
    I don't know who they meant, but they all laughed. And every now and again I'd hear them praising the food, which I don't wonder at, for Jules had certainly done himself proud. All artistic temperament, these Frenchmen are. The moment I told him we had company, so to speak, he blossomed like a flower does when you put it in water.
    'Ah, see, at last!' he says, trying to grab me and kiss me. 'Our fame has gone abroad in the world which amuses himself, ain't it? For a good supper connexion I have always prayed,