Tucky was willin' enough too; but the best he can promise is to smuggle
a note into the dressin' rooms. We waits in the lobby for the answer,
and inside of five minutes we has it.

"Ain't they the limit, these spotlight chasers?" says Tucky. "She
tells me to chuck it in the basket with the others, and says she'll
read it to-morrow. Huh! And only a quarter tip after the second act
when I lugs her in a bid to a cabaret supper!"

"Tonight?" says I. "Where at, Tucky?"

"Looey's," says he, "with a broker guy that's been buyin' B-10 every
night for a week."

But when I leads Ira outside and tries to explain how the case stands,
and breaks it to him gentle that his stock has taken a sudden slump, it
develops that he's one of these gents who don't know when they're
crossed off.

"I've got to see her tonight, that's all," says he. "What's the matter
with our going to the same place?"

"For one thing," says I, "they wouldn't let us in without our
open-faced clothes on. Got yours with you?"

"Full evenin' dress?" says Ira, with his eyes bugged. "Why, I never
had any."

"Then it's by-by, Maizie," says I.