' up the front hall with their extension grips and
droppin' polysyllables in the soup. Chetty's brow was a low cut.
Maybe he had a full set of brains; but he hadn't ever had to work 'em
overtime, and he didn't seem anxious to try. About all the heavy
thinkin' he did was when he was orderin' lunch at the club. But he was
a big, full blooded, good natured young feller, and with the exercise
he got around to the Studio he kept in pretty good trim.

How he ever come to get stuck on a girl like Angelica, though, was
more'n I could account for. She's one of these slim, big eyed,
breathless, gushy sort of females; the kind that tends out on picture
shows, and piano recitals, and Hindu lectures. Chester seems to have a
bad case of it, though.

"Is she on hand to-night, Chetty?" says I.

He owns up that she was. "And say, Shorty," says he, "I want you to
meet her. Come on, now. I've told her a lot about you."

"That bein' the case," says I, "here's where Angelica gets a treat,"
and we starts out to hunt for her, Chester's plan bein' to make me the
excuse for the boxin' exhibit.

But Angelica didn't seem to be so easy to locate. First we strikes the
music room, where a heavy weight gent lately come over from Warsaw is
tearin' a thunder storm out of the southwest corner of the piano.

The room was full of folks; but nary sign of the girl with the eyes.
Nor she wa'n't in the libr'y, where a four-eyed duck with a crop of
rusty chin spinach was gassin' away about the sun spots, or something.
Say, there was 'most any kind of brain stimulation you could name bein'
handed out in diff'rent parts of that house; but Angelica wa'n't to any
of 'em.

It was just by accident, as we was takin' a turn around one of the
verandas facin' the water, that, we runs across a couple camped down in
a corner seat under a big palm. The girl in pink radium silk was
Angelica. And say, by moonlight she's a bunch' of honeysuckle! The
other party was our old friend Curlylocks, and I has to grin at the
easy way he has of pickin' out the best looker in sight and leadin' her
off where she wouldn't have to listen to anybody but him. He has the
po'try tap turned on full blast, and the girl is listenin' as pleased
as if she had never heard anything better in her life.

[Illustration: HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST]

"Confound him!" says Chester under his breath. "He's here again, is
he?"

"Looks like this part of the house was ge