Part 23 (1/2)

in by twos and threes to hit up their cigarettes.

It was about eleven-thirty and there was four or five of 'em in the cloakroom, puffin' away languid like real clubmen, when in drifts a young lady all in pink silk and gold net and hails one of the wicked bunch.

”Bobby,” says she, ”you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

”Run on now, Vee,” says he. ”Told you when I asked you to come that I wasn't a dancing man, y'know.”

”Fudge!” says she, stampin' her foot. ”You think it's smart to take that pose, don't you? Well, you wait!”

And, say, you talk about your haughty beauts! Why, she was a little the silkiest young queen I ever had a real close view of,--the slimmest feet and ankles, reg'lar cameo-cut face all tinted up natural like a bunch of sweet peas, and a lot of straw-colored hair as fine as cobwebs. She was a thoroughbred stunner, this Miss Vee was, and mad all over.

”I haven't been on the floor for four numbers,” she goes on. ”You just wait!”

”You wouldn't be cad enough to peach on us for smokin', would you?” says Bobby.

”Wouldn't I, though!” says she.

That starts a stampede. All but Bobby chucks away their cigarettes and beats it back to the ballroom. He turns sulky, though.

”Tell ahead,” says he. ”Who cares? And let's see you get any more dances!”

He's a pasty-faced, weak-jawed youth with a chronic scowl and a sullen look in his eyes. I should say he was sixteen maybe, and the young lady a year older. She grips her fan hard and stands there starin' at him.

I'm so much int'rested in the case that the first thing I know I've b.u.t.ted in with advice.

”Ah, be nice, Claude!” says I. ”Dance with the young lady. I would if I was you.”

And you can't guess how fussy a little remark like that gets Bobby boy.

He almost swallows his cigarette from the jar he gets, being spoken to by a common cloakroom checker. First off he jumps up and stalks over to me real majestic and threatenin'.

”You--you----How dare you?” he splutters out.

”There, there!” says I. ”Don't get bristle-spined over it. I wa'n't offerin' any deadly insult, and if it makes you feel as bad as all that I'll take it back.”

”I--I'll have you dismissed!” he growls.

”Can't do it, Bobby,” says I. ”I'm no reg'lar tip-chaser. I'm here incog.--doing it for a lark, y'know. Back to your corner, now! There's a lady present.”

He glares at me for a minute or so, and then turns on the queen in pink.

”I hope you're satisfied, Vee,” says he. ”You would come in here, though! I can't help it if the attendants are insolent to you.”

”Pooh!” says Miss Vee. ”The young man was only taking my part.”

”So?” sneers Bobbie. ”I congratulate you on your new champion.”

”He acts more like a gentleman than you do, at any rate!” she fires back at him.

”Does he?” says Bobby. ”Then why don't you get him for a partner?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”G'WAN!” SAYS I, ”IT'S A FAIR SWAP.”]