And, believe me, she’s some queen!  Course, it’s a bunch of swell lookers all around, or they wouldn’t be havin’ the S.R.O. sign out so often; but got up the way she was, with all them yellow petals makin’ a sort of frame for her, and them big dark eyes rollin’ bold and sassy, this ex-table girl from the Mansion House stands out some prominent.

“By gorry!” explodes Ira, as he gets his first glimpse.  And from then on he sits with his eyes glued on her as long as she’s on the stage.

[Illustration:  “By gorry!” explodes Ira, as he gets his first glimpse.]

He had a good view too; for comin’ late all I could get was upper box seats at three a throw, and I shoves Ira close up to the rail.  That one remark is all he has to unload durin’ the whole performance, and somehow I didn’t have the heart to break in with any comments.  You see, I wa’n’t sure how he might be takin’ it; so I waits until the final curtain, and then nudges him out of his dream.

“Well, how about it?” says I.  “Ready to scratch your entry now, are you?”

“Eh?” says he, rousin’ up.  “Pull out?  No, Sir!  I—­I’m going to give her a chance to take that ring.”

“You are?” says I.  “Well, well!  Right there with the pep, ain’t you?  But how you goin’ to manage it?”

“Why, I—­I don’t know,” says he, lookin’ blank.  “Say, Son, can’t you fix it for me some way?  I—­I want Nellie to go back with me.  If I could only see her for a minute, and explain how it was I couldn’t——­”

“You win, Ira!” says I.  “Hanged if there ain’t Tucky Moller down there in an usher’s uniform.  He’s an old friend of mine.  We’ll see what he can do.”

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.

“Dog-goned if it is!” says he.  “Guess I can wait around outside, can’t I?”