"Do you know," he breaks in, "I believe I should like it. If you think she's good looking now, young man, you should have seen her at 19, at 22, or at 25. What an ass I was! And now I suppose she's like a full blown rose, perfect, exquisite?"
"Oh, I don't mean she's any ravin' beauty," says I, hedgin'.
"You don't, eh?" says he. "Well, I'd just like to see. You may tell her that I will——No, I'll 'phone her myself. Where is she?"
And all the stallin' around I could do didn't jar him away from that idea. He seems to have forgotten all about this Mabel person who was going to sing. He wanted to call up Louise right away. And he did.
So I don't have any chesty bulletin to hand Mr. Robert when I gets back.
"Well?" says he. "Did you induce him to give the right answer?"
"Almost," says I. "Had him panicky inside of three minutes."
"And then?" asks Mr. Robert.
"I overdid the act," says I. "Talked too much. He's coming."
Mr. Robert shrugs his shoulders. "Serves Bruce right," says he. "I wonder, though, how Louise will take it."