We all agreed to do this, or to tar and feather and ride on a rail any
gentleman who might in any way be so unfortunate as to fall one iota
short of Vicky Van's requirements.

"And now," said Vicky, "if you'll all please go downstairs, except
Mrs. Reeves and Mr. Garrison and my own sweet self, I'll be orfly
obliged to you."

The sweeping gesture with which she sought to dismiss us was a wave of
her white arms and a smile of her red lips, and I, for one, found it
impossible to obey. I started with the rest, and then after the gay
crowd were part way down stairs I turned back.

"Please, mayn't I join your little class, if I'll be very good?" I
begged. "I don't want Bert Garrison to be left alone at the mercy of
two such sirens."

Miss Van Allen hesitated. Her pink-tipped forefinger rested a moment
on her curved lip. "Yes," she said, nodding her head. "Yes, stay, Mr.
Calhoun. You may be a help. Are you any good at getting theatre boxes
after they're all sold?"

"That's my profession," I returned. "I learned it from a
correspondence school. Where's the theatre? Lead me to it!"

"It's the Metropolis Theatre," she replied. "And I want to have a
party there to-morrow night, and I want two boxes, and this awful,
dreadful, bad Mr. Garrison says they're all sold, and I can't get any!
What can you do about it?"