She's some smart dresser, on and off, Betty is. Her idea of a perfectly good dinner gown is to make it as simple as possible. All she needs is a quart or so of glass beads and a little pink tulle and there she is. There's more or less of her, too. And me thinkin' that Theda Bara stood for the last word in bare. I hadn't seen Betty costumed for the dinin' room then. And I expect the blush roses in the flower bowl had nothing on my ears when it came to a vivid color scheme. By that time, of course, she and Nicky had recovered from the shock of findin' themselves with their feet under the same table and they've settled down to bein' insultin'ly polite to each other. It's "Mr. Wells" and "Miss Burke" with them, Nicky with his eyes in his plate and Betty throwin' him frigid glances that should have chilled his soup. And the next thing I know she's turned to me and is cuttin' loose with her whole bag of tricks. Talk about bein' vamped! Say, inside of three minutes there she had me dizzy in the head. With them sparklin', roly-boly eyes of hers so near I didn't know whether I was butterin' a roll or spreadin' it on my thumb. "Do you know," says she, "I simply adore red hair--your kind." "Maybe that's why I picked out this particular shade," says I. "Tchk!" says she, tappin' me on the arm. "Tell me, how do you get it to wave so cunningly in front?" "Don't give it away," says I, "but I do demonstratin' at a male beauty parlor." This seems to tickle Betty so much that she has to lean over and chuckle on my shoulder. "Bob calls you Torchy, doesn't he?" she goes on. "I'm going to, too." "Well, I don't see how I can stop you," says I. "What do you think of this new near-beer?" she demands. "Why," says I, "it strikes me the bird who named it was a poor judge of distance." Which, almost causes Betty to swallow an olive pit. "You're simply delightful!" says she. "Why haven't we met before?" "Maybe they didn't think it was safe," says I. "They might be right, at that." "Naughty, naughty!" says she. "But go on. Tell me a funny story while the fish is being served." "I'd do better servin' the fish," says I. "Pooh!" says she. "I don't believe it. Come!" "How do you know I'm primed?" says I. "I can tell by your eyes," says she. "There's a twinkle in them." "S-s-s-sh!" says I. "Belladonna. Besides, I always forget the good ones I read in the comic section." "Please!" insists Betty. "Every one else is being so stupid. And you're supposed to entertain me, you know." "Well," says I, "I did hear kind of a rich one while I was waitin' at the club for Mr. Robert today only I don't know as----" "Listen, everybody," announces Betty vivacious. "Torchy is going to tell a story." Course, that gets me pinked up like the candle shades and I shakes my head vigorous. "Hear, hear!" says Mr. Robert. "Oh, do!" adds Mrs. Ellins. As for Vee, she looks across at me doubtful. "I hope it isn't that one about a Mr. Cohen who played poker all night," says she.