"Nickelodeon?"
"No, Montgomery and Stone."
The lady muttered something unintelligible, then she tittered nervously. "Those top balconies make me dizzy."
"How about the orchestra—sixth row? Could you keep your head there?"
"You must own a bill-board."
"No, it's a bank-book; same initials, you see. I'm an heiress."
"See here, Mitch"—Miss Dunlap became serious—"you're a good little copper-wire comedian, but I don't know you nor your people."
"Well, I come from one of the oldest families in Atwood, Michigan, and that town was settled over thirty years ago."
"But you don't know me," the lady demurred.
"I do, too. You're a tall blonde, gray eyes, blue dress; you have a dimple—"