"Aw, kid," cried Miss Jones--and Mildred had never imagined she could be so coarse. "'Cut' it. He's a _good_ guy, he is. A _thoroughbred_!" She looked at the man now, who appeared a trifle angry. "You're spoiling it all. He'd _like_ you; but he don't want too much of the kid play." "These good lookers are always hard t' land," said the man. "But this trick appears the hardest." Then to her he said: "Come on kid. Look over my hurry of a moment ago. That face of yours, I must say, got me 'daffy'," and he laughed with a toss of the head. Her tension relaxed, and she permitted herself to come from behind the chair. A moment later they were seated around the large table in the center of the room. A waiter now stood over them, with eyes askance. "Little Sunny Brook'll do me," said one of the men. The other nodded the same; his eyes rested upon Miss Jones, who tossed her head gayly, and said: "Aw, Dickie and Joe, I don't like it straight. Make mine a dry martini." He attended Mildred now, while the others conversed. She did not know what to say. She had not thought of anything to drink; but in that moment she knew she would have to order something. "A coca cola," she said quietly. Three pair of eyes regarded her then with surprise evident. As it became clear to them, all threw their heads back and laughed loudly. The waiter stood with a little smile about the corners of his mouth, which showed he possessed a sense of humor. Mildred was silent and looked at them in surprise. Presently, when they had quieted, Miss Jones said a little impatiently: "You're a good one, kid. I must say so. Coca cola! ha, ha! But they don't carry coca cola at this 'joint'," whereupon they laughed again. "Yes, ma'am," now spoke the waiter. "We carry _coca cola_, but it's used as a wash." They laughed long and earnestly. "Bring us a quart of Sunny Brook," said the man who was nearest her. "And--yes, bring this little girl here a coca cola--for a wash." He lit a fresh cigar, and smiled. "Play cards, kid?" he inquired, and looked at her. "Why don't you say something, sweetness? Gee! Has the cat got your tongue?" he complained a trifle nervously, as he flicked the ashes from the cigar. The waiter had returned now with many glasses and bottles, and their drinks were before them. Before her was placed a small bottle of the drink she had ordered, while two glasses were arranged beside it, while a larger glass filled with ice stood beside them. The others had before them likewise, all except Miss Jones, whose drink was in a peculiar glass with a long stem, and flashed green in the electric light.