"Not a thing, Henry. I don't even rightly know what a bill-of-lading is. But it always sounded to me like about the dullest thing in the world." Ben Gartz had escorted them to the very elevator and had said, with a final wave of the hand, just as they were descending, "Now that you've found the way, come often." Charley and Lottie, looking at each other, had given way completely. Just after dinner, on the evening of Beck Schaefer's wedding day, Ben Gartz telephoned. The telephone call had followed less than a minute after Lottie's rebellious thoughts about him. "I hope my thinking of him didn't do it," she said to herself as she answered the telephone. Would she go driving? No, she didn't feel like it. Oh come on! Do you good. We'll drop in at the Midway. There's a new revue there that's a winner. She pleaded a headache. Then it's just what you need. Won't take no for an answer. She went. She wore her white wash-satin skirt and the pink sports coat and her big hat and looked very well indeed. They drove to the Midway Gardens in Ben's new car. Ben, parking the car, knew the auto starter. "H'are you, Eddie." He knew the uniformed doorman. "H'are you, Jo." He knew the head waiter. "H'are you, Al. Got a nice table for me?" "Always find a table for you, Mr. Gartz. Yes, Mr. Gartz." Ben surveyed the Gardens largely from the top of the terrace. They were worth surveying. Your Chicago South Side dweller bores you with details. "Look at that! Notice anything queer about this place?" he asks you. You survey its chaste white beauty. "Queer? No, it's lovely----" "Not a curved line in it!" announces the South Sider, largely. "Frank Lloyd Wright designed it. Not a curved line in it--roof, balcony, pillars, statues--anywhere." Your surprised and grateful eyes confirm this boast as you glance about at the scene before you. Ben Gartz was fussy about his table. Near one of three dancing platforms--but not too near. Near the music--but not too near. On the terrace where one could see and be seen--but not too exposed to the public gaze. At last they found it. It was deliciously cool there in that great unroofed space. There was even a breeze, miraculously caught within the four walls of the Garden. They ordered iced drinks. There was a revue, between the general dancing numbers. Ben applauded this revue vigorously. He seemed to know a good deal about the girls who took part in it. Very young girls they were, and exquisitely slim. Some of them had almost the angular lines of adolescence. In one number they were supposed to represent Light--Candle Light, Gas Light, Lamp Light, Electricity, Moonlight, Sunlight, Starlight. Their costumes were bizarre, scanty to a degree that would have been startling had they been less young and reticent of flesh. "I see you've got a couple of new ones," Ben remarked to Albert, the head waiter, as that urbane individual passed their table. "Yes," said Albert; and again, "Yes," in order not to seem less than unctuous.