The critic smiled. "There's a dollar, Regan. Try Scotch for a
change. It's better for you than these cheap blends. And don't
breathe toward a lamp, or you'll ignite."

The Judge laughed wheezingly. "I do take a drop now and then."

"A drop? You'd better take a tumble, or Bergman will
let you out."

"See here, you know all the managers, Mr. Pope. Can't you find a
job for a swell dame?" the Judge inquired, anxiously.

"Who is she?"

"Lottie Devine. She's out with the 'Peach Blossom Girls.'"

"Lottie Devine. Why, she's your wife, isn't she?"

"Sure, and playing the 'Wheel' when she belongs in musical comedy.
She dances as good as she did when we worked together--after she
gets warmed up--and she looks great in tights--swellest legs in
burlesque, Mr. Pope. Can't you place her?"

"She's a trifle old, I'm afraid."

"Huh! She wigs up a lot better'n some of the squabs in this
troupe. Believe me, she'd fit any chorus."

"Why don't you ask Bergman?"