"If you do, Consuelo, dear," said Busby urbanely, "we'll ship you down in a service elevator, and see you get the operation, too. Now, no nonsense, girls. You know what that means."
"What we've got to keep it out of the poipers? What, no publicity? Gee!"
"None, now or after," said Busby firmly.
All at once he looked up, astonished, perceiving Doré, who floated in at this moment like a golden bird.
"Gwendolyn had the sneezes," said Adèle Vickers hastily. "This is her sister."
"What's her name?" said Busby suspiciously, while the chorus girls, with their mountainous hats and sweeping feathers, their overloaded bodices and jeweled necks, studied with some concern the simple daring of this new arrival, uncertain and apprehensive.
"Miss Baxter," said Miss Vickers in a low voice.
"She's not a reporter?" said Busby, hesitating.
"Honest to God, Buzzy," said Adèle Vickers vehemently. "She's on the stage, the legitimate—Doré Baxter, a friend of mine!"
"I know her!" said Busby, suddenly enlightened by the full name, and going to her, he said: "Met you at a party of Bruce Gunther's, I believe, Miss Baxter."