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
butted 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?"

[Illustration: "G'WAN!" SAYS I, "IT'S A FAIR SWAP."]

"If you don't ask me for this next waltz, I will," says she, tossin' up
her chin.

"What a bluff!" says Bobby. "Well, Miss Vee, I'm not going to ask you.
Now!"

Say, it was gettin' more or less personal by that time, and I was
wonderin' just how the young lady was goin' to back out of the
proposition that had been put up to her, when the first thing I know
she's marchin' straight over to where I was.

"Will you give me this next waltz?" says she.

"Say," I gasps, "do you mean it?"

"Certainly I do," says she. "You can dance, can't you?"

"I don't know," says I; "but I can do an East Side spiel."

"Good!" says she. "I know how to do that too. Come on."

"In a minute," says I. "Just hold on until I borrow the y