pure love of a good, true girl? Gee, don't make me laugh like a baby.

I was betrothed to six at one time, and the diamond rings I wore made
the prima bite her finger-nails with jealousy. Oh, I had a great graft.

I had a birthday in every week stand. System? Well, I should hope so,
dear.

We'd work it this way: Alla McSweeney and I were chumming together, and
naturally Monday night after the show we would meet some folks. We would
have a real nice time, and along about fourth highball time after the
show Wednesday night Alla would whisper real confidential into one of
the fellows' ear that I was going to be twenty-one Friday and "we girls"
are planning to give her a little surprise, and did he want to come in
on it.

Every time the Johns would fall, except in Milwaukee, and nobody ever
got anything out of that town anyway. Then Alla would whisper that the
company was going to present me with a loving cup because I was such a
good fellow, and if they wanted to chip in now was their chance, and
anything was acceptable from $5 up, and to bring his friends.

Alla would tout it up something fierce, I being totally unconscious to
what was coming off.

Friday night would come around and Alla would borrow the loving cup from
the property man that the tenor used in the drinking number, put it
under her shawl and caper over to the appointed cafe.

I would be the center of a bunch of merry cut-ups all wanting to blow