"Honest, sweetness, I'm going to buy you a phonograph record of 'Home Sweet Home Ain't Sweet Enough for Me'—"
"She's waitin' up for us, Joe; she ain't hardly able to be up, but she's waitin', Joe."
"Ain't I told you I'm going up with you some night when I'm in the humor for it? I feel like a ninety-horse-power dancer to-night, Doll. Whatta you bet I sold more seats for your show to-night than the box-office? Whatta you bet?"
"Joe—you promised."
"Sure, and I'm going to keep it; but I'm wearin' a celluloid collar to-night, hon, and the fireside ain't no place for me. I wouldn't wanna blow your mamma to smithereens."
"Joe!"
"I wouldn't—honest, sweetness, I wouldn't."
"Joe, comin' to our house ain't like bein' company—honest! When the boys and girls from the store used to come over we'd roll back the carpets, and ma'd play on an old comb and Jimmie'd make a noise like a banjo, and—"
"Hear! Hear! You sound like 'Way Down East' gone into vaudeville."
"Come on up to-night, Joe—like you promised."