"Yah, it's my New-Year's resolution to tell the truth for thirty minutes if I'm bounced for it. If you got to know it, it's a ten-per-cent. rake-off for us girls on every bottle of golden vichy you boys blow us to." "Honest, Sylvette, you're wearing scrambled eggs instead of brains to-night. Why don't you cry a few brinies for the gemmemen while you're at it!" That so quickened Mr. Loeb's risibilities that he dropped his hand over Miss Cleone St. Claire's, completely covering yet not touching it. "You're a scream, kiddo! Gee! I like you!" She drank with her chin flung up and her throat very white. "Bubbles! Bubbles! God bless all my troubles!" "Well, I'll be darned!" said Mr. Kahn, smiling at her. "The gemmemen from out of town?" "St. Louis." "I had a friend out there--Joe Kelsannie, of Albuquerque. Remember him, Sylvette?" "Do I!" "I'm going out there myself some day if the going's good, and get me a cowboy west of Newark." Mr. Loeb leaned forward, smiling into her quick-fire eyes. "I'll take you!" "Stick her on your watch-fob, Herman." "No, sirree, I'll take her life size." "Watch out, Hermie; remember the upside-down postage stamp!" "Want to go, Jingle Bells?" "Sure." "But I'm on the level, little one. No kidding. Day after to-morrow. St. Louis--with me!" Miss Cleone St. Claire drew herself up, the doll look receding somewhat from her gaze. "Say, bo, you got me wrong. I'm one of the nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand chorus girls you could introduce your sister to. Aren't I, Syl?" "You let that kid alone," said Miss Sylvette de Long, in a tone not part of her role. "When the traffic policeman sticks up his mitt it's time to halt, see?" Lines not before discernible in Miss De Long's face had long since begun to creep out, smoky shadows beneath her eyes and a sunburst of fine lines showing through the powder like stencil designs. "Come on, Herm. It's getting late, and if we want to be down on Cedar--" "You think I'm kidding this little black-eyed chum of yours, don't you, Blondey?" "Sure not! You want 'er to grace the head of your table and wear the family heirlooms!" "Well, Sam, you're my brother-in-law--married to my own sister and living under the same roof with me--am I a habitual lady-fusser, or do they call me Hermie the Hermit at home?" "Never knew him to talk ten straight words to a skirt before, girls," said Mr. Kahn through a yawn; "and if you don't believe it, go out and ask Louis Slupsky, who used to play chinies with him." "Say, you," said Miss De Long, edging slightly, "you're about as funny as a machine-gun, you are! If you got a private life, why ain't you back in St. Louis a night like this, showing her and the kids a good time?" She was frankly tired, her eyelids darkening. "I wish to Heaven I was," said Mr. Kahn, suddenly. "Take it from me, girl, it was nothing but a business hang-over kept me. Come, Herm, if we--" "You think I'm kidding little Jingle Bells, don't you?"