"Well, he's a good boy, Robin is," insists Uncle Noah. "I reckon it took him sort of sudden, this wantin' to leave Goober. Just had to come to New York, it seems like. I dunno what for, and I ain't askin'; only I promised his Uncle Phil I'd see he didn't git into no trouble, and—well, I'm a waitin' around, you see, waitin' around."
"How'd you come to locate him, Uncle?" says I.
"We-e-ell," says he, "I reckon I shouldn't a done it nohow, but he left the envelope to her letter on his desk,—a Miss Toots it come from,—and the address was on the back. It was directly afterwards that Robin quits Goober so sudden."
"Ah-ha!" says I. "Maggie Toots again, eh?"
Looked like the myst'ry was solved too, and while I wa'n't plannin' to restrict any interstate romance, or throw the switch on love's young dream, I thought as long as I'd gone this far I might as well take a look.
"Maybe he'll be too busy to receive any home delegation just now," says I; "but if you want to stick around while I do a little scoutin' inside, Uncle, I'll be out after a bit."
"I'll be a waitin'," says Uncle Noah, smilin' patient, and I leaves him backed up against the front of the buildin' with his hands crossed peaceful on the top of his home-made walkin' stick.
It's some giddy push I gets into after I've put up my dollar for a ballroom ticket and crowded in where a twenty-piece orchestra was busy with the toe-throbby stuff. And there's such a mob on the floor and along the side lines that pickin' out one particular young gent seems like a hopeless job.
I drifts around, though, elbowin' in and out, gettin' glared at by fat old dames, and bein' bumped by tangoin' couples, until I finds a spot in a corner where I could hang up and have a fair view. About then someone blows a whistle, and out on the platform in front of the orchestra appears a tall, bullet-headed, pimple-faced young gent, wearin' white spats with his frock-coat costume, and leadin' by the hand a zippy young lady who's attired mostly in black net and a pair of gauze wings growin' out between her shoulder blades. It's announced that they will do a fancy hesitation.
Take it from me, I never saw it danced like that before! It was more'n a dance: it was an acrobatic act, an assault with intent to maim, and other things we won't talk about. The careless way that young sport tossed around this party with the gauze wings was enough to make you wonder what was happenin' to her wishbone. First he'd swing her round with her head bent back until her barrette almost scraped the floor; then he'd yank her up, toss her in the air, and let her trickle graceful down his shirt front, like he was a human stair rail. Next, as the music hit the high spots, they'd go to a close clinch, and whirl and dip and pivot until she breaks loose, takes a flyin' leap, and lands shoulder high in his hands, while he walks around with her like she was something he was bringin' in on a tray.