"Gee, I am sore on this racing thing. You know I went down there a couple of weeks ago and chased the books up a tree. I prance down there the other day and they had me going some. I had a crowd of inside info, and what do I do but let a wop tout me out of it and play his horse. I lost just five hundred cold ones by the deal, and I sure does give this guy a laying out. "I says to him, 'What license you got to give a lady a bum steer like that? Here I go and plant my fifty on the dog you handed me at 6 to 5, and the 10 to 1 shot I was going to play wins! Where's my comeback? I ask you as a lady, where do I get off?' He offered to kick in with the fifty I lost, but I put up such an awful roar that he gave me two hundred more to ease my aching heart. "I lose him in the crowd and then take a peek at the entries again and find the gee-gee I intended betting on didn't even start. Of course I couldn't find the party that gave me the two fifty, search as I might. Wasn't that rotten luck? "I ran that two fifty up to an even thousand before the last race and then beat it for home and mother. The bunch went into the fresh air fund along with the rest. I am now trying to meet some nice gentleman who does business in Wall Street and get him to make a few conservative investments for me. Not that I intend to use any of my own money. Certainly not. But it is a good thing to have a bank account to flash, so that the boob will think he will get a comeback if he does lose. "A gentleman did put some money up on a margin for me once and then when he got trimmed he came to me for a check and I had to go into hysterics before I could get rid of him. "The conceited yen some of these boobs have in thinking that a fluff has nothing else to do but sit in some cafe and hold hands until daylight. "I am trying to get the Chorus Girls' Union to get together and pass a law charging so much for our time, just like a taxicab. Don't you think that would be a good idea? Lots of times the supper ain't worth the time she wastes on the cluck. They could have a little indicator fastened to their Merry Widow hat and as they leave the stage door turn down the flag and not read the meter until he had kissed you good-by in the hall, and then collect. In that way the doll would have the price of breakfast, and maybe a new gag or something for her wardrobe. It would reduce the nightly jam around the stage door by a whole lot.