"What a cute little fellah!" says Tessie to him as they crowds into the elevator with the rest of the push. "Say," says I, making a jump for the grating, "you don't need to----" "Next car!" sings out the Johnny Flip, slammin' the door. Now wa'n't that rubbin' it in? "Coises!" says I. "Deep coises!" and walks down eleven flights with a temperature that would have got me condemned by any boiler inspector in the business. The candy? That goes to one of the pie-faced maids where I lives. The nerve of that Izzy, though! In the mornin' he comes around just like nothin' had happened and wants to know if I'll sub. for him on his evenin' job the night he goes to the ball. To show I don't carry any grouch, I says I will; but he offers only half-pay and makes me agree to split the tips with him. "I couldn't afford it, at that," says he, "only this is a kid session and the graft will be light." It's this checkroom work of his, you know, at one of them swell Fifth-ave. joints where they have an extra night force on call for coming-out parties and dinner dances and the like. So, while him and Tessie is enjoyin' themselves with the lady shirtwaist makers, I'm standin' behind the counter wearin' a braided jacket, givin' out check coupons, and stowin' away hats and top-coats for Master Reginald and other buddin' sports of the younger set. Seems this is the final blowout of Miss Somebody's afternoon dancin' class, and no one was allowed inside unless Father had his name printed in bright red ink in the social register. A hot lot of young gold spooners they was too; some of 'em not as old as me by a couple of years, and swellin' around in dinky Tuxes and white kids. One of 'em even hands me in a silver-headed cane. "Careful of that stick, my man," says he. "Oh, sure!" says I. "Puppah'd be wild if anything happened to it, wouldn't he?" And you should have heard the talk they had as they loafs around the cloakroom between the numbers,--all about the awful things they did at prep school, how they bunked the masters, and smuggled brandied peaches up to their rooms, and rough-housed durin' mornin' prayers. Almost made your blood run cold--not. When they got to discussin' the girls, though, and sayin' how such a one was a "jolly sort," and others was "bloomin' rotters," it made me seasick and it was a relief when they took to whisperin' things I couldn't hear about the chaperons. After intermission they come sneakin' in by twos and threes to hit up their cigarettes. It was about eleven-thirty and there was four or five of 'em in the cloakroom, puffin' away languid like real clubmen, when in drifts a young lady all in pink silk and gold net and hails one of the wicked bunch. "Bobby," says she, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" "Run on now, Vee," says he. "Told you when I asked you to come that I wasn't a dancing man, y'know." "Fudge!" says she, stampin' her foot. "You think it's smart to take that pose, don't you? Well, you wait!"