"Merry!" says Stanley. "I should hardly call it that. How am I going to think in a bedlam like this?"
"Must you think?" says I.
"Of course," says he. "But if this keeps up we shall go crazy."
"Oh, I don't know," says I. "You may, but I judge that Mrs. Rawson will survive. She seems to be endurin' it all right," and I glances over where Marge is allowin' a youngster of 19 or so to lead her out for the next dance.
"Oh, Marge!" says Stanley. "She's always game for anything. But she hasn't the business worries and responsibilities that I have. Do you know, Torchy, the cotton situation is about to reach a crisis and if I cannot put through a——"
"Come on, Torchy," breaks in Vee. "Let's try this one."
"Sure!" says I. "Although I'm missin' some mighty thrillin' information about what's going to happen to cotton."
"Oh, bother cotton!" says Vee. "It would do Stanley good to forget about his silly old business for a little while. Look at him! Why, you would thing he was a funeral."
"Or that he was just reportin' as chairman of the grand jury," says I.
"And little Polly is having such a good time, isn't she?" goes on Vee.