"That ain't my fault," says the Missus. "Besides, we can all go somewheres and eat after the show."
"On who?" I says.
"You're givin' the party," says she.
"The invitations didn't contain no clause about the inner man," says I. "Furthermore, if I had the ten dollars back that I spent to-day for tickets, I'd have eleven dollars altogether."
"Well," says the Missus, "maybe Mr. Bishop will have the hunch."
"He will if his hearin' 's good," says I.
Bishop showed up at six-thirty, lookin' mighty cute in his waiter uniform. After he'd came, it didn't take Bess long to finish her toilet. I'd like to fell over when I seen her. Some doll she was, too, in a fifty-meg evenin' dress marked down to thirty-seven. I know, because I had helped pick it out for the Missus.
"My, you look sweet!" says Bishop. "That's a beautiful gown."
"It's my favoright," says Bessie.
"It don't take a person long to get attached to a pretty dress," I says.