“Well, then,” said Chimp, “here you are: You go to that fellow who’s taken the joint and ask him to let you buy it off him.”
“Well, of all the fool propositions!” cried Dolly shrilly, and even Mr. Molloy came near to sneering.
“Not so good, you don’t think?” continued Chimp, uncrushed. “Well, then, listen here to the rest of it. Dolly calls on this fellow first. She acts surprised because her father hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Her what?”
“Her father. Then she starts in vamping this guy all she can. If she hasn’t lost her pep since she last tried that sort of thing, the guy ought to be in pretty good shape for Act Two by the time the curtain rings up. That’s when you blow in, Soapy.”
“Am I her father?” asked Mr. Molloy, a little blankly.
“Sure, you’re her father. Why not?”
Mr. Molloy, who was a little sensitive about the difference in age between his bride and himself, considered that Chimp was not displaying his usual tact, but muttered something about greying himself up some at the temples.
“Then,” said Chimp, “Soapy does a spiel.”