t
first. No, Bonnie had asked to be brought up-to-date. So she should,
too. But I did wish she'd come to town in something besides that late
Queen Victoria costume.

Yet I maps out the evenin' as if I had a date with Peggy Hopkins or
Hazel Dawn. At 5:30 I'm slippin' a ten-spot into the unwillin' palm of a
Plutoria head waiter to cinch a table for two next to the dancin'
surface, and from there I drops into a cigar store where I pays two
prices for a couple of end seats at the Midnight Follies. Then I slicks
up a bit at a Turkish bath and at 7:25 I'm waitin' with the biggest taxi
I can find in front of Bonnie's hotel.

I expect I must have let out a sigh of relief when she shows up and I
notice that she's shed the unsteady velvet lid. It's some creation she's
swapped it for, a pink satin affair with a wing spread of about three
feet, but I must admit it kind of sets off that big face of hers and the
grayish hair.

That's nothing to the jolt I gets, though, after she's been loaded into
the cab and the fur-trimmed opera cape slips back a bit. Say, take it
from me, Bonnie has bloomed out. She must have speeded up some Fifth
Avenue modiste's establishment to the limit, but she's turned the trick,
I'll say. Uh-huh! Not only the latest model evening gown, but she's had
her hair done up spiffy, and she's got on a set of jewels that would
make a pawnbroker's bride turn green.

"Z-z-zing!" says I, catchin' my breath. "Excuse me, but I didn't know
you were going to dress the part."

"You didn't think I could, did you, Torchy?" says she. "Well, I haven't
quite forgotten, you see."

So all them gloomy thoughts I'd indulged in was so much useless worry,
as is usually the case. I'll admit we was some conspicuous durin' the
evenin', with folks stretchin' their necks our way, but I didn't hear
any snickers. They gazed at Bonnie sort of awed and impressed, like
tourists starin' at the Woolworth Buildin' when it's lighted up.

Some classy dinner that was we had, even if I did order it myself, with
only two waiters to coach me. I couldn't say exactly what it was we had
for nourishment, only I know it was all tasty and expensive. You
wouldn't expect me to pick out the cheap things for a lady plutess from
Brazil, would you? So we dallies with Canaps Barbizon, Portage de la
Reine, breasts of milk-fed pheasants, and such trifles as that. Bonnie
says it's all good. But she can't seem to get used to the band brayin'
out impetuous just a