come, Dickie?"

"No," said Dickie, "I hurt my ankle last night on the icy pavement. And
anyhow I can't dance. And I sort of find girls kind of tiresome."

"That's too bad. I'm sure sorry for you, Hudson. Particularly as I came
here just for the purpose of handing you over the cutest little billy-doo
you ever saw."

He drew out of his pocket an envelope and held it away from Dickie.

"You're trying to job me, Jim,"--but Dickie had his head coaxingly on one
side and his face was pink.

"I'll give it to you if you can guess the sender."

"Babe?"

"Wrong."

"Girlie?"

"Well, sir, it ain't Girlie's fist--not the fist she uses when she drops
_me_ billy-doos."

Dickie's eyes fell. He turned aside in his chair and stopped the
grinding of the graphophone. He made no further guess. Jim, with his
dimple deepening, tossed the small paper into the air and caught it
again deftly.