“Wilbur and I are to be united in wedlock next week and we are going on our wedding tour.  Where it will be goodness only knows.  It may be only to Canarsie or Far Rockaway.

“Since he met me he has planted a bunch of change, and a gentleman friend of mine gave him a few tips on the market, and he’s got what he claims is a tidy sum.  He’s talking about taking a trip to Europe.  Such a chance.  What license have we in that neck of woods?  I told him to take a ride over the Williamsburg bridge and that would give him all the Europe he wanted.

“He wants to go over there and bring back a couple of big vaudeville acts and make a bunch of money.  Rats, I tell him, rats.  What does he know about vaudeville acts?  Some of these wops that go across never get it out of their systems.  All you hear is, ‘When I was in London.’

“I remember the time I met Ted Marks in Maxim’s.  Maxim’s is in Paris, you know, my dear.  It gives me a sharp, stinging pain.  Those burgs ain’t such a much.  You can get just as good things to drink right here in New York, so, I says to him, ’what’s the use of making a fool trip like that?’ But he’s noodly on the subject and spends half of his spare time reading ‘Short Trips in the Old World,’ ‘Life in the Latin Quarter,’ ‘Fifty-seven Ways to Avoid Tipping’ and all that kind of junk.  A trip to Asbury Park would satisfy me just as well.

“Alia McSweeney’s Judge gave her a new automobile the other day and we had a match race on the Merrick Road.  Honest, the way my car left her tied to the post was a crime.  We both stopped drinking three hours before the race commenced, so that our nerves would be in good condition.”

“She may be a good chorus girl, but she certainly is a bum racer.  I beat her by two dogs, six chickens and a lamp post.  I would have got a milk wagon, only Wilbur carelessly blew the horn and scared him up a side street.  After the race the loser had to treat the winner to the big eats.  I can’t tell you what we had, but I can say this much.  If she loses another race the Judge will have to go over to the corporations.  Eat?  We had the best there was.

“Gee, I am sore on this racing thing.  You know I went down there a couple of weeks ago and chased the books up a tree.  I prance down there the other day and they had me going some.  I had a crowd of inside info, and what do I do but let a wop tout me out of it and play his horse.  I lost just five hundred cold ones by the deal, and I sure does give this guy a laying out.

“I says to him, ’What license you got to give a lady a bum steer like that?  Here I go and plant my fifty on the dog you handed me at 6 to 5, and the 10 to 1 shot I was going to play wins!  Where’s my comeback?  I ask you as a lady, where do I get off?’ He offered to kick in with the fifty I lost, but I put up such an awful roar that he gave me two hundred more to ease my aching heart.

“I lose him in the crowd and then take a peek at the entries again and find the gee-gee I intended betting on didn’t even start.  Of course I couldn’t find the party that gave me the two fifty, search as I might.  Wasn’t that rotten luck?