how about Clover Blossom Inn?"

Heard about that joint, haven't you? Of course. There's a lot of joy-ride
tank stations strung along Jerome-ave. and the Yonkers road; but when it
comes to a genuine tabasco flavored chorus girls' rest, the Clover
Blossom has most of the others lookin' like playgrounds for little
mothers. But Cornie don't do any dodgin'.

"Fine!" says she. "I've read about that inn." Then she hurries on to plan
out the details. I must go over to Times Square and hire a nice looking
touring car for the evening. And I mustn't let Miss Stover know how much
it costs; for Cornelia wants to do that part of it by her lonely.

"The dinner we are to go shares on," says she.

"Couldn't think of it," says I. "Let that stand as my blow."

"No, indeed," says Cornelia. "We have the money all put aside, and I
sha'n't like it. Here it is, and I want you to be sure you spend the
whole of it," and with that she shoves over a couple of fives.

I couldn't help grinnin' as I takes it. Maybe you've settled a dinner
bill for three and a feed for the shofer at the Clover Blossom; but not
with a ten-spot, eh?

And while Cornelia is goin' back in the elevator after the schoolma'am, I
scoots over to get a machine. After convincin' two or three of them
leather capped pirates that I didn't want to buy their blamed outfits, I
fin'lly beats one down to twenty-five and goes back after the ladies.

[Illustration: "Cornelia whispered about the peroxide puffed girl"]

Miss Stover don't turn out to be any such star as Cornelia; but she don't
look so much like a suffragette as I expected. She's plump, and middle
aged, and plain dressed; but there's more or less style to the way she
carries herself. Also she has just a suspicion of eye twinkle behind the
glasses, which suggests that perhaps some of this programme is due to
her.

"All aboard for the Clover Blossom!" says I, handin' 'em into the
tonneau; "that is, as soon as I run in here to the telephone booth."

It had come to me only at that minute what a shame it was this stunt of
Cornelia's was goin' to be wasted on an audience that couldn't appreciate
the fine points, and I'd thought of a scheme that might supply the gap.
So I calls up an old friend of mine and has a little confab.

By the time we'd crossed the Harlem and had got straightened out on the
parkway with our gas lamps lighted, and the moon comin' up over the
trees, and hundreds of other cars whizzin' along in both