to give her his chair.

"No," said she, "I want you to stay, Mr. Mason. 'Cause why, I want to
play wiz you. Cassie, you give me your place, won't you,
Ducky-Daddles? and you go and flirt with Mr. Calhoun. He knows the
very newest flirts! Go, give him a tryout."

Vicky Van settled herself into her seat with the happy little sigh of
the bridge lover, who sits down with three good players, and in
another moment she was breathlessly looking over her hand. "Without,"
she said, triumphantly, and knowing she'd say no word more to me for
the present, I walked away with Cassie Weldon.

And Cassie was good fun. She took me to the piano, and with the soft
pedal down, she showed me a new little tone picture she had made up,
which was both picturesque and funny.

"You'd better go into vaudeville!" I exclaimed, as she finished, "your
talent is wasted on the concert platform."

"That's what Vicky tells me," she returned. "Sometimes I believe I
will try it, just for fun."

"You'll find it such fun, you'll stay in for earnest," I assured her,
for she had shown a bit of inventive genius that I felt sure would
make good in a little musical turn.