So intent were the punchers on the etiquette of the ballroom, as expounded by Mr. Nick Looker, that they never glanced in the direction of the door. With suppressed mirth that threatened to break all bounds at any moment, Ethel, Roy, and Teddy watched the scene.
“Now what I do?� Sing Lung wanted to know. “I mebby kiss you, hey?�
“No! No!� Nick roared, his face a fiery red. “You don’t do nothin’ of the kind! You say ‘Cern’ly, pleecetuh!’ That’s all. Go on, say it.�
“Celn’ly, pleecetuh,� simpered Sing Lung.
“That’s right! Here, Nat, you try it. Don’t forget, Sing is a lady, even though he don’t know it. Go ahead!�
With an exaggerated gait, Nat Raymond strutted forward. Bowing down, he said to Sing Lung:
“Askin’ your liberty fer a-takin’ of the pardon, ma’am, but—but—Nick, why in thunder don’t you dry up and blow away! I can’t remember that crazy thing you say!â€�
“Celn’ly, pleecetuh!� Sing Lung replied. He was doing his part.
Nick threw his hat on the floor in disgust.
“Mahvis dance, you bonehead!� he shouted. “Mahvis dance! Mahvis dance! Can’t you remember that?�