them a touch of high life. Zow-e, if we are going
less than a mile a minute I hope I have to walk home. Cheese, there's a
bike cop. Can you loose him? Beat it. Good-by, Bobby. Look out, there's
another one in front. Slow up, for goodness sake, or we will be pinched.
What is it, sergeant? Oh, no, sir. Not more than six miles an hour, I am
sure.

"This machine has got a dudedad on it that prevents it from going more
than ten. Won't you have a little drink, officer? Just smile on the gent
in the front seat; he's right there with the distillery. Wilbur, chase
the roof off a jug of suds for the Lieutenant. I tell you, Captain, on
my honor as a lady, we are not going more that six miles an hour. Must
take us to the station! Why, you low-down, monkey-faced excuse for a
sparrow cop, would you have the crust to stand up in front of a judge
and tell him that we were going faster than ten miles an hour? If you
want to get us to the station it's a cinch you will have to push the
machine. Walk! Not so you could notice it. The only way you can get me
there is to drag me by the hair of my head, and if you dare lay your
mitts on my new marcel wave I will report you to your Commissioner, and
if a certain friend of mine don't stand strong enough with him to have
you broke, I'll eat my ostrich plume!

"Will let us go if we promise not to do it again? Why, certainly we
won't, Sergeant. Thank you, Lieutenant. Here's a little something for
the Relief Fund. Good-by, Captain. Wilbur give the driver two bells. The
nerve of that guy thinking he could pinch me. I'll have you know that I
am only nicked by the best cops on Broadway, and not by any high-grass
constable. Hand 'em salve, pardy, hand 'em salve. A soft answer turneth
away wrath. If that don't turn the trick use a brick.

"Oh, gee, there it is. Go around and come up the other side so we can be
seen from all the tables.

"Let's take this table. Waiter, get on the job, as these gentlemen and
ladies wish to address a few remarks to you. Oh, there's Grace
McSweeney. Pipe the hat she is sporting. Bum taste, it strikes me. Who
is that slob with her? Oh, hello, dear! I was just speaking of your new
hat to Sadie. We both admired it so.

"We were wondering how you could wear it coming up on the Subway. I've
found that the wind blows them all to pieces in my car. Who's the wop?
From Pittsburg? Oh, is that so? He reminds me so much of a very dear
friend of mine that was sent up for life. No, I