Says I, “There is a plenty of gold-diggers in the manicure profession, and you might of had some of them trimming your cuticle right now if you had of went to some other table. But I am one that makes it plain to a customer that he is the butter.” “Butter?” says he, and I give him a flash out of the corner of my eye. “Nine hours every day I earns my daily bread in the Elite Beauty Parlors; and then if in the evening some gentleman invites me to dinner, he’s the butter.” So then I seen that we was friends, and I knew I would like that dairy. But still he was kind of shy and it wasn’t till I was done that he come right down to it, he was lonesome and would like to have me go to dinner with him the next evening but the trouble was he couldn’t afford to go to no swell place on account of having so many people in this town that knew him. But I tells him that two is a company for me and we’ll go to any quiet place that he likes. “You got to be extra careful,” I says, “because Washington is an awful place for gossip.” “Yes,” says he, “and the truth is I hold an especially prominent position. And so--you see--” “Yes, I see perfectly,” I says, “I know a gentleman when I meet one and I hope I know how to be a lady. You may count on me to play the game square.” But even that don’t satisfy him he kind of hems around and he says, “You must understand, I am in a position where you will be sure to find out who I am right away.” “I see,” says I, “and so you’ll have to give me your real name? You may trust me, Mr.--er--” “Er-Edgerton,” says he, not more than one-third sure that he wants to. “Mr. Edgerton,” says I and he see’s I’m thinking it over. “No,” he says, “you never heard it before, it ain’t a name that is advertised on toilet soap, nor on the silver screen. In fact I think just now it’s the least advertised name in the whole U. S. A.” “In the secret service?” says I for I admit I was intreeged though I ain’t sure how to spell it. “The most secret of all services,” says he. “I’m the Secretary to the Spokesman.” And there is where your Mame proved herself the prize dumbbell. “The Spokesman?” says I. “Who is he?” He laughs as if I had said something specially funny. “What do you read in the newspapers?” “Well,” says I, “I read the divorce news of course because that is what the customers want to talk about. And I read the murders because I like them. And I read Mme. Prinker’s beauty hints, and how to grow lean by rolling.” “But you don’t read what the Spokesman has to say?” “No,” says I. “What paper does he write for?”