As he ran he planned how he would avoid Rosenblatt and get past him into Paulina's room, where he would be safe, and where, he knew, good things saved from the feast for him by his sister would be waiting him.

To her he would entrust all his cents above what was due to Rosenblatt, and with her they would be safe.

For by neither threatening nor wheedling could Rosenblatt extract from her what was entrusted to her care, as he could from the slow-witted Paulina.
Keenly sensitive to the radiant beauty of the sparkling night, filled with the pleasurable anticipation of the feast before him, vibrating in every nerve with the mere joy of living his vigorous young life, Kalman ran along at full speed, singing now and then in breathless snatches a wild song of the Hungarian plains.

Turning a sharp corner near his home, he almost overran a little girl.
"Kalman!" she cried with a joyous note in her voice.
"Hello! Elizabeth Ketzel, what do you want ?" answered the boy, pulling up panting.
"Will you be singing to-night ?" asked the little girl timidly.
"Sure, I will," replied the lad, who had already mastered in the school of the streets the intricacies of the Canadian vernacular.
"I wish I could come and listen." "It is no place for little girls," said Kalman brusquely; then noting the shadow upon the face of the child, he added, "Perhaps you can come to the back window and Irma will let you in." "I'll be sure to come," said Elizabeth to herself, for Kalman was off again like the wind.
Paulina's house was overflowing with riotous festivity.

Avoiding the front door, Kalman ran to the back of the house, and making entrance through the window, there waited for his sister.