Izzy, he's a third assistant in the stock department, and on twelve a week he sports one of those striped green overcoats and a plush hat with the bow behind. Maybe he wouldn't be listed as a home destroyer; but he has a flossy way with him and he goes around a lot. About the second week I sees him and the new girl gettin' chummier and chummier, and, while she still has a jolly for me now and then, I knows I'm only a side issue. That's what hurt most. So what fool play must I make but go and plunge on a sixty-cent box of mixed choc'lates for her! As luck would have it, Mr. Robert spots me comin' out of the 23d-st. candy shop with the package under my arm. You wouldn't think he'd notice a little clew like that, or pick me up on it; but he does. "How now, Torchy?" says he. "Sweets to the sweet, eh?" "Uh-huh," says I, and I guess I colors up some. "What is the fair one's name?" says he. "Tessie," says I. "Ah!" says he. "Thus were they ever named: Tessie, Juliet, and Helen of Troy. They're all one. My envious sympathy, Torchy, and may the gods be kind!" Which is only the brand of hot air Mr. Robert blows off whenever he has a good lunch under his vest and nothin' heavy on his mind. It don't mean anything at all. "Troy!" says I. "Can it! This ain't for no up-State laundry hand. She comes from Eighth-ave." Well, I stows the box away until closin' time, and then waits around the upper corridor for Tessie to show up. Izzy, he spots me and proceeds to improve the time by givin' me an earache about what an important party he is, how he expects to be jumped a notch soon, and about how much he makes nights on the outside, followin' up some checkroom snap or other. "That's fine!" says I. "But won't you be late gettin' over to Grand-st.?" Izzy was still explainin' how long it was since his folks moved to the West Side, and what swell things they had in the parlor, when Tessie floats out with her new spring lid and princess walkin' suit on. I'm just shovin' out the peace offerin' and gettin' ready to hand over my smoothest josh, when she brushes past like I was part of the wall decoration, squeals, "Oh, Mr. Budheimer!" and begins showin' Izzy some tickets for the grand annual benefit ball of the Shirtwaist Makers' Union, and tellin' him how she was sellin' 'em for her sister, and what a grand time it was goin' to be. "How much?" says Izzy, tryin' hard to choke it back, but losin' the struggle. "Seventy-five for a double ticket," says Tessie. "That's the kind you want." "Maybe I would yet, if I could get a partner," says he. "Ain't that an awful sad case?" says Tessie. "Nobody's teased me very hard, either." "You'll go with me, yes?" says Izzy. "It's awful sudden," says she; "but a chance is a chance. Don't send a cab; the folks in the block might think I was putting on." And me? Why, I don't show on the chart at all! Right under my nose she does it, and don't even give me a sideways glance. "Pooh!" says I. "Pooh, pooh!"