aid. But I didn't say. I'd have to think it over. He could
telephone to me. No, he couldn't. The lady I lived with was very
particular. Well, anyhow, stormy days he'd see to it he'd be down by
the factory and bring me home. Would I be dressed just the way I was
then? Just the way--green tam and all.

The next day while I thumped out lamp parts I tried to screw my
courage up to go out with that chauffeur. Finally I decided to put it
up to the girls. I meandered back to the wash room. There on the old
stairs sat Irish Minnie and Annie, fat and ultradignified. They were
discussing who the father of the child really was. I breezed in
casually.

"Vamped a chauffeur last night."

"Go-an."

"Sure. He asked me to ride home with him an' I did."

"Got in the machine with him?"

"Sure!"

"You _fool_! You young _fool_!"

Goodness! I was unprepared for such comment.

"What did he do to ya?"

"Nothin'. An' he wants me to go to dinner with him. What'll I say?"

Both pondered. "Sure," said Minnie, "I b'lieve in a girl gettin' all
that's comin' to her, but all I want to tell ya is, chauffeurs are a
bad lot--the worst, I tell ya."

"You said it!" nodded fat Annie, as if years of harrowing experience
lay behind her. "He was all right to ya the first time so as to lure
you out the next."

"But," says Minnie, "if ya go to dinner with him, don't you go near
his machine. Steer clear of machines. Eat all ya can off him, but
don't do no ridin'."

"You said it!" again Annie backed her up. Annie was a regular sack
slinger. She could have hurled two men off Brooklyn Bridge with one
hand. "If you was as big an' strong as me you c'u'd take 'most any
chance. I'd like to see a guy try to pull anythin' on me." I'd like to
see him, too.

"Some day"--Minnie wanted to drive her advice home by concrete
illustration--"some day a chauffeur'll hold a handkerchief under your
nose with somethin' on it. When ya come to, goodness knows where
you'll be."

I began to feel a little as if I'd posed as too innocent.

"You see, out West--" I began.

"My Gawd!"--Minnie waved a hand scornfully--"don't be tryin' to tell
me all men are angels out West."

Just then Miss Hibber poked her head in and we suddenly took ourselves
out.

"You go easy, now," Minnie whispered after me.

I lacked the nerve, anyhow, and they put on the finishing touches. A
bricklayer would not have been so bad. How did I know the chauffeur
was not working for a friend of