"Who—whose?" Freddy faltered.
"Mine!" chirped Florette. "I'm goin' to get you that papa I promised you."
Freddy turned away.
"Sulkin'!" chided Florette. "Naughty, jealous boy!"
The new papa did not appear so formidable as Freddy had expected. In fact, he turned out to be only Howard, Florette's acrobatic partner. Freddy philosophically reflected that if one must have a new papa, far better so to call Howard, who necessarily encroached on Florette's time, than a stranger who might take up some of her leisure hours.
But Freddy received a distinct shock when the new papa joined them after the evening performance and accompanied them up to their room.
Freddy had always regarded Florette's room as his, too. He felt that the new papa was an intruder in their home. Alas! It soon became all too apparent that it was Freddy who was de trop, or, as he would have expressed it, a Mister Buttinski.
They were having a little supper of pickles and cheese and liver sausage and jam. Florette and the papa drank out of a bottle by turns and laughed a great deal. Florette seemed to think the papa very clever and funny. She laughed at everything he said. She looked at him with shining eyes. She squeezed his hand under the table. Freddy tried in vain to attract her attention. Finally he gave up and sat staring at the oblivious couple with a stupid expression.
"That kid's half asleep," said the new papa.
Florette looked at Freddy and was annoyed by his vacant eyes.