A.M.--a remark of the girl's led Kelly to suspect she was not the
stainless bit of perfection his love had pictured. So after three
years of constant devotion Kelly felt that he had been sold out. He
turned around and said then and there to his fair one, "You go to
hell!" He never laid eyes on her again.

A few years later Kelly met an American girl. He went with her three
years, was making seventy-five dollars a month, had saved eight
hundred and seventy-six dollars, and in addition possessed one hundred
and ten dollars in life insurance. So he asked the lady to marry him.
Y' know w'at she said to Kelly? Kelly leaned his shaggy mop of hair my
way. She said, "I won't marry nobody on seventy-five dollars a month!"
Again Kelly's manhood asserted itself. Do you know w'at Kelly said to
her? He says, says he, once more, "You go to hell!" He quit.

Whereupon Kelly drew out every cent he possessed and sailed for
Europe. When he landed again in New York City, d' y'know how much
money Kelly had in his pocket? Thirty-five cents. Then he went West
for seven or eight years, and tore up the country considerable, Kelly
did. He came back to New York again, again minus cash. A few days
after his return the girl of eight years before met him by appointment
at the Grand Central Station. What d' y'know? She asked Kelly to marry
her--just like that. Heck! by that time Kelly didn't give a darn one
way or the other. She bought the ring, she hired the minister, she did
the whole business. Kelly married her--that's the wife he's got right
now.

One of Kelly's steady, dependable waiters approached about 5 P.M.
"Say, girl, I like you!" Of course, the comeback for that now, as
always, was, "Aw go-an!"

"Sure, I like you. Say, how about goin' out this evening with me?
We'll sure do the old town!"

"I say, you sound like as if you got all of twenty-five cents in your
pocket!"

He leaned way over my counter.

"I got twenty-five dollars, and it's yours any time you say the word!"

It's words like that which sometimes don't get said.

For supper that night I sat at a table with a housekeeper, a parlor
maid, and a seamstress, and listened to much talk. Mainly, it was a
discussion of where the most desirable jobs were to be had in their
respective lines. There was complete unanimity of opinion. Clubs
headed the list, and the cream of cream were men's clubs. The
housekeeper and parlor maid together painted a picture which would
lead one to