"That's only the beginning, Sunny. I'm going in for politics a bit. Life too purposeless heretofore, and the machine wants me. At least, I've been told so. Your father, Sunny, has been doggone nice about it—a real friend. You know there was a bunch of city hicks that thought it fun to laugh at the idea of a fat man holding down any public job, but I guess the fat fellow can put it over some of the other bunch."
"Ho! I should say that so."
"Look at President Taft," put in Katy warmly. "He weighs more'n you do, I'll bet."
"Give a fellow a chance," said Jinx bashfully. "If I keep on, I'll soon catch up with him."
"Sunny," said Katy in her ear, "I feel like Itchy. You remember you told me how after a bath he liked to roll himself in the dirt because he missed his fleas. That's me all over. I miss my fleas. I ain—aren't used to being refined. Gee! I hope Miss Woodhouse didn't hear me say that. If she catches me talking like that—good-night! D'she ever make you feel like a two-spot?"—Scorch with a look! Good-night!"
A broad grin lighted up Katy's wide Irish face. Shoving her arm recklessly through Jinx's, she said:
"Come along, old skate, let's show 'em on the floor what reglar dancers like you and me can do."
Sunny watched them with shining eyes, and once as they whirled by, Katy's voice floated above the murmurs of the dance and music:
"Gee! How light you are on your feet! Plump men usually are. I always say——"
And Katy and Jinx, Monty and Bobs and the Professor and all her friends were lost to view in that moving, glittering throng of dancers, upon whom, like fluttering moths the cherry blossom petals were dropping from above alighting upon their heads and shoulders and giving them that festival look that Sunny knew so well in Japan. She had a breathing space for a spell, and now that very wistful longing look stole like a shadow back to the girl's young face. All unconsciously a sigh escaped her. Instantly her father was at her side.