Ptomaine Haul.
Two Petticoats arriving. A happy Warble sprang from the car and seemed fairly to skim up the steps. She passed, unnoticing, the pantry door, and flew up to her own rooms which had been done over to suit her new slenderness.
“Beer,” she cried, “look at me!”
“Maddum!” cried the astounded Beer. “What done it?”
“Unrequited love and pickles. I can wear sport clothes now!”
“Maddum can wear anything or nothing!” declared Beer triumphantly.
That night, Warble, her hands behind her, wafted into Petticoat's room.
He sat on the edge of his bed, running lingerie ribbons in his underwear.
“I'll stay, always,” Warble said, sidling up to him. “And I'm happy. But...”
“Look out! Don't let the cat get that bolt of ribbon to play with!”