"The waiter looked at the fifty cents and turned pale.
"Then he looked at me and turned paler.
"Then he tried to thank me, but he caught another flash of that plebeian fifty and it choked him.
"Then he took a long look at the half-dollar and with a low moan he passed away.
"In the excitement I grabbed Peaches and we flew for home.
"Say! Bunch! the only time I'll ever go in the St. Regis again will be just after a hearty dinner."
"I guess you're right, John, but what about this scheme to win out my wedding money?" Bunch queried. "I'm dreadfully nervous about it."
"I know. Bunch, I know just how you feel. I'm quite a bit to the St. Vitus myself, because if Clara J. ever gets wise that I've been speculating again after faithfully promising her to cut out all the guessing contests, she's liable to say something unkind. I simply must get that money back, Bunch, before she knows I lost it, and Signor Petroskinski is the name of our paying teller. I tell you, Bunch, we can't lose if we handle this cinch right, and I've got it all framed up. It's good for a thousand plunks apiece every week, so cut out the yesterday gag and think of a fat to-morrow."
"I'd like to see this Petroskinski," said Bunch.
"I'll have him take luncheon with us to-morrow at the Hotel
Astor—twelve thirty. Are you for me to the finish, Bunch?"