“Stop it, Dick!” gurgled Blash. “We’ll be put out, you s-s-silly ass! Grab him, Rusty!”
And Rusty grabbed him and, breathing heavily, he was forced back into his seat.
“Be good!” begged Rusty in a strangled voice. “Remember you’ve g-g-ot a reputat-repu—Oh, gosh!”
“As a public character,” began Blash. “Quit it! There’s an usher coming, Dick! Be good, won’t you?”
“I—I—I’ll break every bone in your body,” sputtered Dick. “I’——”
“What’s the trouble there?” asked a stern voice from the aisle. “You’ll have to cut out that noise, fellows, or leave the theatre.”
“It—it’s all right, Usher,” panted Blash. “The—my friend had a slight attack of—of——”
“Vertigo,” supplied Stanley. “He’s all right now. Feel better, Dick? Yes, he says he feels better, thanks.”
“You let go me,” growled Dick, writhing in the grasp of Blash and Rusty. “What do I care about the usher? Let go my arms, you pups!”