are doings. I've got a plantation
full of gold out near the Blue Hills, and----"
"Please don't smoke, there are ladies present!" admonished Bunch.
"Oh, very well!" said Skinski, and forthwith he launched into a
description of his various tricks.
The waiter had just brought our luncheon when a large blondined
shadow fell across the festive board, and Skinski jumped to his
feet, followed by Bunch and yours surprisedly.
"Permit me!" Skinski said; "our new backers, Mr. Jefferson and Mr.
John Henry! this is Mademoiselle Dodo, the Human Guessworks. She's
my assistant in the mind-reading tests, and she's all to the
elegant. Will you feed the face, Dodey?"
"You betcher sweet!" Dodo replied, as she splashed into the chair
provided by the waiter, while I glanced at Bunch sideways and found
him on the verge of a fainting fit.
[Illustration: "You betcher sweet!"]
"I've told Dodey all about you two glad boys," Skinski went on,
"and she's for you, ain't you, Dodey?"
"You betcher sweet!" Dodo chimed in, with a hungry glance at the
cooked stuff.
"I told her we had a business meet on here, but if she wanted to
squeeze in she wouldn't be in nobody's way," Skinski continued.
"Dodey's an awful clever girl, and she wouldn't be in this biz
eight hours if that gold mine----"
"Sure, I know!" I interrupted; "possibly Mademoiselle is thirsty--a
little wine, eh?"
"You betcher sweet!" the stout person replied, with a celerity that
made Bunch sit up and look about the room to see if anyone
suspected him.
"Dodey is always for the suds thing," Skinski chipped in. "But
never to excess, never to excess. I never see Dodey lit up but
once, and that was in Dayton, Ohio, the night we played to the
janitor of the hall and his four children. When we came to the
place where Dodey is blindfolded and does the decimal fractions
stunt on the blackboard the janitor's oldest child fooled Dodey
into doing all next week's lessons in arithmetic and Dodey fretted
over it, didn't you, Dodey?"
"You betcher sweet!" the leading lady replied, with both eyes
following the efforts of the waiter, who was opening a bottle of
Pommery.
Bunch was beginning to get uneasy and I had a bad attack of fidgets.
"Say, Dodey!" our bright and shining light went on, "I want you to
make a fuss over these two young gents, because they are the only
nearly silk on the counter. They've put up their good cush to send
me on tour without ever dragging m
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