but I tries to explain
that while I mix more or less with classy folks, I don't exactly keep
their datebooks for 'em, or provide talent for their after dinner
stunts.

That don't head off Snick, though. He says I'm the only link between him
and the set he wants to reach, and he just can't take no for an answer.
He says he'll depend on me for a date for next Wednesday night.

"Why Wednesday?" says I. "Wouldn't Thursday or Friday do as well?"

"No," says he. "That's Frenchy's only night off from the cafe, and it's
his dress suit Hermy's got to wear. It'll be some tight across the back;
but it's the biggest one I can get the loan of without paying rent."

Well, I tells Snick I'll see what can be done, and when I gets home I
puts the problem up to Sadie. Maybe if she'd had a look at Hermy she'd
taken more interest; but as it is she says she don't see how I can afford
to run the chances of handin' out a lemon, even if there was an op'nin'.
Then again, so many of our friends were at Palm Beach just now, and those
who'd come back were so busy givin' Lent bridge parties, that the chances
of workin' in a dark horse barytone was mighty slim. She'd think it over,
though, and see if maybe something can't be done.

So that's the best I can give Snick when he shows up in the mornin', and
it was the same every day that week. I was kind of sorry for Snick, and
was almost on the point of luggin' him and his discovery out to the house
and askin' in a few of the neighbors, when Sadie tells me that the
Purdy-Pells are back from Florida and are goin' to open their town house
with some kind of happy jinks Wednesday night, and that we're invited.

Course, that knocks out my scheme. I'd passed the sad news on to Snick;
and it was near noon Wednesday, when I'm called up on the 'phone by
Sadie. Seems that Mrs. Purdy-Pell had signed a lady harpist and a refined
monologue artist to fill in the gap between coffee and bridge, and the
lady harper had scratched her entry on account of a bad case of grip. So
couldn't I find my friend Mr. Butters and get him to produce his singer?
The case had been stated to Mrs. Purdy-Pell, and she was willin' to take
the risk.

"All right," says I. "But it's all up to her, don't you forget."

With that I chases down to Madison Square, catches Snick just startin'
out with a load of neck stretchers, gives him the number, and tells him
to show up prompt at nine-thirty. And I wish you could have seen the joy
that