“Wasn’t that last thing stupid?” says Vee.

“Didn’t bother me any,” says I.  “Maybe I wa’n’t followin’ it real close.”

“The idea!” says, she.  “Why come to the theater, anyway?”

“Lean closer and I’ll whisper,” says I.

“Silly!” says she.  “Here!  Have a chocolate.”

“Toss,” says I, openin’ my mouth.

Vee snickers.  “Suppose I missed and hit the fat man beyond?”

“It’s a sportin’ chance he takes,” says I.  “Shoot.”

I had to bump Fatty a bit makin’ the catch; but when he sees what the game is, he comes back with the friendly grin.

“There!” says Vee, tintin’ up.  “Now behave.”

“Sorry,” says I, “but I had to field my position, didn’t I?  Once more, now.”

“Certainly not,” says Vee.  “Besides, there goes the curtain.”

And if it hadn’t been for interruptions like that we might have had a perfectly good time.  We generally do when we’re let alone.  To sort of string the fun out I suggests goin’ somewhere for tea.  And it was while we’re swappin’ josh over the toasted crumpets and marmalade that we discovers a familiar-lookin’ couple on the dancin’ surface.

“Why, there’s Doris!” says Vee.

“And the happy hubby!” I adds.  “Hey, Westy!  Come nourish yourself.”

Maybe you remember that pair?  Sappy Westlake, anyway.  He’s the noble, fair-haired youth that for a long time Auntie had all picked out as the chosen one for Vee, and he hung around constant until one lucky day Vee had this Doris Ull come for a visit.

Kind of a pouty, peevish queen, Doris was, you know.  Spoiled at home, and the job finished at one of these flossy girls’ boardin’-schools where they get a full course in court etiquette and learn to call the hired girl Smith quite haughty.

But she looked good to Westy, and, what with the help Vee and I gave ’em, they made a match of it.  Months ago that must ‘a’ been, nearly a year.  So I signals a fray-juggler to pull up more chairs, and we has quite a reunion.

Seems they’d been on a long honeymoon trip:  done the whole Pacific coast, stopped off a while at Banff, and worked hack home through Quebec and the White Mountains.  Think of all the carfares and tips to bell-hops that means!  He don’t have to worry, though.  Income is Westy’s middle name.  All he knows about it is that there’s a trust company downtown somewheres that handles the estate and wishes on him quarterly a lot more’n he knows how to spend.  Beastly bore!

“What a wonderful time you two must have had!” says Vee.

Doris shrugs her shoulders.

“Sightseeing always gives me a headache,” says she.  “And in the Canadian Rockies we nearly froze.  I was glad to see New York again.  But one tires of hotel life.  Thank goodness, our house is ready at last.  We moved in a week ago.”

“Oh!” says Vee.  “Then you’re housekeeping?”