It was while Sadie and me was livin’ at the Perzazzer hotel, before we moved out to Rockhurst-on-the-Sound. Early one evenin’ we was sittin’, as quiet and domestic as you please, in our twelve by fourteen cabinet finished dinin’ room on the seventh floor. We was gazin’ out of the open windows watchin’ a thunder storm meander over towards Long Island, and Tidson was just servin’ the demitasses, when there’s a ring on the ’phone. Tidson, he puts down the tray and answers the call.
“It’s from the office, sir,” says he. “Some one to see you, sir.”
“Me?” says I. “Get a description, Tidson, so I’ll know what to expect.”
At that he asks the room clerk for details, and reports that it’s two young ladies by the name of Blickens.
“What!” says Sadie, prickin’ up her ears. “You don’t know any young women of that name; do you, Shorty?”
“Why not?” says I. “How can I tell until I’ve looked ’em over?”
“Humph!” says she. “Blickens!”
“Sounds nice, don’t it?” says I. “Kind of snappy and interestin’. Maybe I’d better go down and——”
“Tidson,” says Sadie, “tell them to send those young persons up here!”
“That’s right, Tidson,” says I. “Don’t mind anything I say.”