"Will you give me this next waltz?" says she.
"Say," I gasps, "do you mean it?"
"Certainly I do," says she. "You can dance, can't you?"
"I don't know," says I; "but I can do an East Side spiel."
"Good!" says she. "I know how to do that too. Come on."
"In a minute," says I. "Just hold on until I borrow the young gentleman's evenin' coat."
"Wha—what's that?" snorts Bobby.
"You can be usin' mine for a smokin' jacket," says I. "Peel it off now, and let the fancy vest come along too!"
"I—I won't do it!" says Bobbie.
"Oh, yes, you will," says I, "or else you and me will be mixed up in a rumpus that'll bring the chaperons and special cops in here on the run," and with that I proceeds to shed the braided coat and my black vest.