THIRD STANZA
Herman Pupick first met Cutie on the corner of State and Madison streets. Our little home wrecker had slipped and fallen and a large crowd of first nighters had gathered to watch Officer Murphy, the traffic dictator, extract a splinter out of Cutie’s knee.
At this point Herman’s one good eye bulged out of his head like a ripe mushroom. One peek at Cutie’s injured fox trotter filled him with a nameless rage.
“How dare you!” he cried, addressing Officer Murphy. “How dare you take advantage of this maiden’s mishap and expose her person to the lewd eyes of this crowd? Unhand her!”
Officer Murphy dropped the hem of Cutie’s dress and a great sigh went up from the cock-eyed multitude.
“Come with me,” Herman spoke, a ring of authority in his voice, and seizing Cutie’s arm he escorted her to the new Methodist Book Store in the Temple Building, for our hero was a great reader.
“Now,” said Herman, mopping his brow, “you are safe. Be not afraid.”
“Say, bozo,” Cutie said, handing him an O. O., which would have discouraged Former Attorney General Daugherty, “what kind of a racket is this? I am just an honest little kiddie trying to get along.”
From which it can be seen that our heroine thought it was a pinch.