"Ha, ha!" it says. "Tony he'sa laugha at you! Tony he'sa laugha at everybody! Bomb Germo! thisa fel' tella me—ha, ha, ha!"
The Kid grunts in disgust, lets go and Tony bounces back on the lawn.
"Stewed to the scalp!" says Scanlan. "Frisk him!"
I run my hands over Tony and bring forth a bottle of gin and another one of bourbon. The Kid looks 'em over, finally stickin' 'em both in his coat pocket.
"Come on!" he tells me. "They's no use hangin' around here. If I don't get back there, some of them Wealthy Willies that have been wishin' all night will be one-steppin' with Miss Vincent!"
"But how about G. Herbert?" I says.
"He's got my best wishes!" growls the Kid. "He's a nice little feller, but that's the best I can do. What d'ye think I am—Cupid?"
"Well, gimme the alcohol then!" I says. "You ain't gonna fall off the wagon are you, when—"
"Shut up, Stupid!" he butts in. "I wouldn't take a drink of this stuff for what Rockefeller gets for overtime! I want to get it away from that wop, so's he'll have somethin' to moan about when he wakes up."
We went back to the party, and a couple of dames standin' at the punch bowl calls to the Kid. He always was a riot with the women! Helen Dear is there with Van Ness, and he's got to where he's pattin' her hand, while G. Herbert stands in back of 'em lookin' like he wished he had some nails to bite.