amazes me. Where did they all
come from? Why, I supposed the girls didn't know a soul in the place.
Said they didn't on the way out. Yet before we'd left the station two
youths appeared who claimed they'd met Polly somewhere and asked if they
couldn't come up that evening. The next morning they brought around two
others, and some girls, for a motor trip. By afternoon the crowd had
increased to a dozen, and they were all calling each other by their
first names and speaking of the aggregation as 'the bunch.' I came home
tonight to find a dinner party of six and this dance scheduled. Now tell
me, how do they do it?"

"It's by me," says I. "But maybe this kid sister-in-law of yours and her
chum are the kind who don't have to send out S. O. S. signals. And if
this keeps up I judge you're let in for a merry two weeks."

"Merry!" says Stanley. "I should hardly call it that. How am I going to
think in a bedlam like this?"

"Must you think?" says I.

"Of course," says he. "But if this keeps up we shall go crazy."

"Oh, I don't know," says I. "You may, but I judge that Mrs. Rawson will
survive. She seems to be endurin' it all right," and I glances over
where Marge is allowin' a youngster of 19 or so to lead her out for the
next dance.

"Oh, Marge!" says Stanley. "She's always game for anything. But she
hasn't the business worries and responsibilities that I have. Do you
know, Torchy, the cotton situation is about to reach a crisis and if I
cannot put through a----"

"Come on, Torchy," breaks in Vee. "Let's try this one."

"Sure!" says I. "Although I'm missin' some mighty thrillin' information
about what's going to happen to cotton."

"Oh, bother cotton!" says Vee. "It would do Stanley good to forget about
his silly old business for a little while. Look at him! Why, you would
thing he was a funeral."

"Or that he was just reportin' as chairman of the grand jury," says I.

"And little Polly is having such a good time, isn't she?" goes on Vee.

"I expect she is," says I. "She's goin' through the motions, anyway."

Couldn't have been more than 16 or so, Polly. But she has a face like a
flower, the disposition of a butterfly, and a pair of eyes that
shouldn't be used away from home without dimmers on. I expect she don't
know how high voltage they are or she wouldn't roll 'em around so
reckless. It's entertainin' just to sit on the side lines and watch her
pull this baby-vamp act of hers and then see the victims squirm.