“And Lotta Munn?”
“Murdered by her husband. He had to kill her—she wouldn't support him. The Leathershams are in the poorhouse, and Mrs. Charity Givens has bought their place. Want to go on a second honeymoon? Round the world?”
“Yop.”
They went. One night, sitting on top of the Taj Mahal, 'neath the Blue Moon of Persia, Warble cried,
“Shall I go back to Butterfly Thenter—or shall I not?”
“Spin a toddletop,” said Petticoat, taking one from his pocket.
She spun it and it came up pickle foundry.
So Warble said, “All right, dear, I'll go home with you whenever you're ready,” and she kissed him slenderly.