Wid dat Slats give me er nudge wid de elbow an' wun uv dem bum winks.
“Whoever heard uv er hotel ez big ez dat?” sez she an' she wouldn't stand fer it fer er minnit.
In de front dere wuz er lot uv swell bundles wid all kinds uv togs on an quarries—yer know di'monds—in dere ears. I wuz takin' dem all in an' Slats wuz pipin' in der frunt winders at der guys wid de feed bags on, w'en de bloke we wuz wid hustled us erlong, but she went back ter git anudder look an' de first t'ing I knew she wuz hollerin':
“Ha, Chuck, Chuck, cum here.”
So I goes back an' dere she wuz wid er laugh on her face dat went from her ears ter her eyebrows, “Say,” she sez, “pipe de clothes dis mug hez got on. Dat's grate, ain't it?”
“Dat's er bell boy,” sez de bloke.
“Bell boy, nix,” she sez. “Under de table fer yours. Wot are yer tryin' ter do, string me? Yer might call him er bell boy, but I don't seen no bells about him. I t'ink he's er ringer.”
Well, we dragged her away before she got pinched, an' den we landed in de place w'ere de racket wuz. We took it all in from plush ter creem cakes, an' we hadn't been dere twenty minuits w'en sum swell mug copped Slats an' took her away from me. But dat didn't faze me, fer I went down to de fence wid sum uv de mob an' got t'rowin' booze inter me sistem an' smokin' dem Hennery Clay butts. After erwhile I sez to meself: “I guess I'll go an' dig up Slats.”
I wuz lookin' fer her so long dat, on de level, I t'ought I'd get nearsighted, an' w'en I got er flash uv her w'ere do yer t'ink she wuz? Over in er corner wid er bloke dat had er lace curtain on his Mulligan—yer know, whiskers on his face.
I tares over to her an' sez: