ctin' when they first spotted her on the floor
with a ringer, and how the chaperons were squintin' at us through their
lorgnettes, tryin' to make out who I was. And the greatest shock I ever
had was when the music stopped and I fell about a mile down through rosy
clouds.

"Wait!" says Miss Vee, squeezin' my arm. "There'll be an encore. My
aunt's over there, and she's just wild; but it doesn't matter."

"You're a good sport," says I, joinin' in the hand-clappin' to jog the
orchestra into givin' us a repeat.

And just as they starts up the tune again I happens to glance up into
the little visitors' balcony at the end of the ballroom. Who do you
guess I sees watchin' us bug-eyed and open-mouthed? Why, Izzy Budheimer
and Miss Tessie! See? They've broke away from the lady shirtwaisters
durin' the supper hour so Izzy can give his new girl a glimpse of what a
real swell dance is like. Maybe he planned on stoppin' in at the
cloakroom too, and seein' if I was holdin' down the job proper.

Anyway, I can't blame him for doin' the open-face act when he discovers
me out on the floor with the belle of the ball. But all I has time to do
is send him up the chilly stare, and away we go again into another
one-two-three dream--me and Miss Vee.

"I don't care what becomes of me," she hums over my shoulder.

"Me either," says I.

"Silly boy!" says she. "What's your name?"

"Just Torchy," says I, "after my hair."

"I think curly red hair is cute," says she.

"I could go hoarse sayin' things like that about you," says I.

Maybe it was lucky, too, that this second installment was short, or I
might have gone clean mushy; for the way she could look at me out of
them big gray eyes of hers was--well, it was the real thing in thrills.
The wind-up came just as we gets around near the cloakroom door and we
stops.

"It was awfully good of you," says she.

"Gee!" says I. "Why, I could wear out all my old shoes doin' that, and
if ever you need----"

"S-s-sh!" says she. "Here comes my aunt!"

Not waitin' for any further diagram of the situation, I makes a dash
into the cloakroom, where I finds Izzy Budheimer gazin' puzzled at
Bobby, who's sittin' tilted back in his shirt sleeves with the braided
coat slung on the floor.

"Look here, Torchy!" begins Izzy. "What the----"

"On the job, Izzy, if you want to save it!" says I, wigglin' out of
Master Bobby's expensive clothes and chuckin' 'em at him.

"But why--what----" says Izzy, tryin'