First off, I
was goin' to run up durin' lunch hour and pass it to Cousin Myra in
person; but about eleven o'clock I decides it would be safer to use the
'phone.
"Oh!" says she. "I am to be utilized as a chaperon, am I?"
"Couldn't think of anybody who'd do it better," says I; "but, as a matter
of fact, that ain't the idea. Auntie's going, you see, and I thought
maybe I could induce you to come along, too."
"But I detest hotel dinners," says she.
"Ah, come on! Be a sport!" says I. "Lemme show you what I can pick from
the menu. For one item, there'll be _tripe a la mode de Caen_."
"Then I'll come," says Myra. "But how on earth, young man, did you know
that--"
"Just wait!" says I. "You got a lot of guessin' besides that. I'll call
for you at seven sharp."
So I spent most of my noon hour rustlin' through florist shops to get the
particular kind of red roses I'd been tipped off to find. I located 'em,
though, and bought up the whole stock, sendin' part to the house and
luggin' the rest to the head waiter. While I was at the hotel, too, I
got next to the orchestra leader and gave him the names of some pieces he
was to spring durin' dinner.
After all, though, it was Auntie who turned the cleverest trick. She'd
got real enthusiastic by Wednesday mornin', and what does she do but dash
down to the Maison Felice, pick out a two-hundred-dollar evenin' gown,
and have it sent up with a fitter.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133