“Eighteen?” said Jack. “That’s a one and an eight. The figures will hit her all right if you put the eight first.”
“She’s just a foolish little society girl, who thought it would be a grand thing to give up her life as a gay butterfly and follow a career.”
“Society girl!” chirped Ready. “La, la! She must have been one of the Hogan’s Alley four hundred. Following a career, is she? Oh, lud! oh, lud! I don’t wonder the career is trying to run away. Anything would run from that face of hers.”
“She’s highly educated. You should have heard her quote from the classics.”
“I’ll bet she did! Took the choice passages right out of George Ade’s ‘Fables in Slang.’ My, my! but she’s the real thing, Bing! But never, never venture to take her to a dog-fight. She’ll scare the dogs into fits and break up the whole shooting-match.”
“Come, come!” laughed Frank. “We are losing time. Here is the precious missive.”
“Precious missive is great!” chuckled Ready.
“Take it, hustle out, get a messenger-boy, give him instructions, and wait for Boltwood inside the cab. Be sure to get the fellow in.”
“Leave that to us,” chuckled Ready. “We’ll take him in!”
They grasped the letter and hustled from the room.