eption hall, and pretty soon comes back to
report that Miss Gladys will be down in a few minutes. She had the
real skirt notion of time, that maid. For more'n a solid half-hour I
squirms around on a chair wonderin' what could be happenin' up in the
nursery. Then all of a sudden a chatter of goodbys comes from the
upper hall, a maid trots down and hands me a suitcase, and then appears
this languishin' vision in the zippy French lid and the draped silk
wrap.

It's one of these dinky brimless affairs, with skyrocket trimmin' on
the back, and it fits down over her face like a mush bowl over Baby
Brother; but under the rim you could detect some chemical blonde hair
and a pair of pink ears ornamented with pearl pendants the size of
fruit knife handles. She has a complexion to match, one of the kind
that's laid on in layers, with the drugstore red only showing through
the whitewash in spots, and the lips touched up brilliant. Believe me,
it was some artistic makeup!

[Illustration: Believe me, it was some artistic makeup!]

Course, I frames this up for the friend; so I asks innocent, "Excuse
me, but when is little Miss Gladys comin'?"

"Why, I'm Gladys!" comes from between the carmine streaks.

I gawps at her, then at the maid, and then back at the Ziegfeld vision
again. "But, see here!" I goes on. "Mr. Robert he says how----"

"Yes, I know," she breaks in. "He 'phoned. The stupid old thing
couldn't come himself, and he's sent one of his young men. That's much
nicer. Torchy, didn't he say? How odd! But come along. Don't stand
there staring. Good-by, Marie. You must do my hair this way again
sometime."

And next thing I know I'm helpin' her into the car, while Martin tries
to smother a grin. "There you are!" says I, chuckin' her suitcase in
after her. "I--I guess I'll ride in front."

"What!" says she. "And leave me to take that long ride all alone?
I'll not do it. Come in here at once, or I'll not go a step! Come!"

No shrinking violet about Gladys, and as I climbs in I shakes loose the
last of that kindergarten dope I'd been primed with. I'll admit I was
some fussed for awhile too, and I expect I does the dummy act, sittin'
there gazin' into the limousine mirror where she's reflected vivid. I
was tryin' to size her up and decide whether she really was one of the
chicken ballet, or only a high school imitation. I'm so busy at it
that I overlooks the fact that she has the same chance of watchin