ctful bow all ready when she gets a full-face view.

"Aloysius!" says she, scared and husky.

I got to hand it to Skeet, though, that he bears up noble. All he does
is to try to swallow his throat apple a couple of times, and then he
stares at her stern and distant. Also Maggie makes a quick recovery.

"Gentlemen this way, Sir," says she, and waves Skeet into the dressin'
room.

I wanted to follow him up and tip him off that there's one or two other
reasons why this was the wrong house to put over any sporty bluff in;
but as it was I'm overdue in another quarter. You see, Marjorie has been
sittin' out on the side lines, as usual, and Vee has hinted how it would
be nice and charitable of me to brace her for a spiel. I'd sort of been
workin' myself up to the sacrifice, for you know Marjorie's some hefty
partner for anybody not in trainin' to steer around a ballroom floor;
but I'd figured out that the longer I put it off the worse it would be.
So off I trails with my heels draggin' a little heavy.

"Why, thanks ever so much, Torchy," says she, "but I think I have a
partner for the first four or five. After that, though----"

"Don't mention it," says I. "I mean, much obliged," and I backs off
hasty before she can change her mind.

I had to kill time while Vee was dividin' a couple dances between two
young shrimps; so I sidles into a corner where Ferdie sits behind his
shell-rimmed glasses, lookin' bored and lonesome.

"Now don't you wish you'd gone and had your feet educated?" says I.

Ferdie yawns. "I think it quite sufficient," says he, "that one of us
intends making an exhibition. Marjorie has been taking lessons, you
know."

"So I hear," says I. "And it's all right if she don't tackle the maxixe.
Hello! There it goes. Now you will see some stunts!"

Yep, we did! And among the first couples to sail out on the floor, if
you'll believe it, was none other than Marjorie and our lop-eared young
hero, Skeet Keyser.

"Oh, Gosh!" I groans. "Don't look, Ferdie!"

I meant well too; It was goin' to be bad enough to see a corn-fed young
matron the size of Marjorie, who can spin the arrow well up to the
hundred and eighty mark, monkey with them twisty evolutions; but to have
her get let in for it with a roughneck ringer like Skeet--well, that was
goin' to be a real tragedy. How he'd worked it, or what his excuse was
for bein' here at all, was useless questions to ask then. What was
comin' next was the thing to watch fo