Part 74 (2/2)

A startled expression flashed across Lilly's face. Her friend sprang into the breach like a life-saver off a pier.

”_Miss_ Harkins ain't the kind of a girl to sponge on n.o.body. Mr. Polly knows if she's my friend she's all right.”

”That's the idea,” agreed Mr. Polly. ”I like to see girls good friends.”

The trio swung down the street.

”That's what I always say. Why, before Lil was mar--Why, me and Lil never are stingy with our gentlemen friends. I was always the first one to introduce you--wasn't I, Lil?”

”Yes; and me the same way,” amended Lilly. ”I think it's the right way to be.”

”I got a friend comin' up to the dance to-night, just about your style of a fellow, Miss Harkins. One nice chap--he's been in the stock-room at Tracy's for years; some little sport, too.”

”Ain't that grand!” beamed Lulu. ”Two couple of us!”

Lilly hummed a little air as they walked along, both girls receiving the slightest of Mr. Polly's sallies with effusion.

”Oh, dear; it's just like going to a show to be with you, Mr. Polly,”

gasped Lulu, after the gentleman had waggled his ears beneath his hat until it rose from his head with magician's skill. ”How can you be so comical! You ought to be on the stage.”

”That ain't nothin'. You ought to see me keep all the girls in the laces laughin'! I believe in laughin', not cryin'. By the way,” he said, elated with success, ”guess this riddle: Why is a doughnut like a life-preserver?”

Both puckered their brows and sought in vain for a similarity between those widely diversified objects. After breathless volunteers the girls owned themselves outwitted; then Mr. Polly relieved the situation.

”A doughnut is like a life-preserver,” he explained, ”because they're both sinkers.”

The two gasped with laughter, Lulu placing a helpful hand on her left hip.

”Oh, Mr. Polly,” she panted, ”you're simply killin'!”

”Sim-ply kill-in'!” echoed Lilly.

They turned into the dance-hall. Lilly's nostrils widened; the pink flew into her cheeks.

”Oh, say!” she cried; ”I'd rather dance than eat.”

Mr. Polly excused himself and hastened away to find his friend. He returned with a dark young man, whose sartorial perfection left nothing to be desired. He had been dancing, and wiped about the edge of his tall collar with a purple-bordered silk handkerchief.

”Ladies,” announced Mr. Polly, ”I want to introduce you to the swellest dancer on the floor to-night--you may think I'm kiddin', but I'm not.

Miss Tracy and Miss Harkins, this is my friend, Mr. George Sippy.”

Mr. Sippy pirouetted on one tan oxford and cast his eyes upward. ”I'm all fussed,” he said; ”but pleased to meet you, ladies.”

The girls laughed again. Then they strolled toward the dance-hall, where the gentleman bought tickets. Dancing at the One Hundred and Fifteenth Street Hall was five cents the selection.

The music struck up. Lulu crossed both hands upon her chest, Mr. Polly clasped her round the waist, and they moved off with that sinew tension peculiar to dance-halls. Mr. Sippy turned to Lilly.

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