The waitress essayed coyness, but failed in her endeavor. Five dollars was five dollars. She turned slightly to one side; her skirt was raised; into her stocking-top Dabney slipped the five-dollar bill.
No invention of modern history has ever been acclaimed with the enthusiasm that greeted Mr. Dabney’s strikingly original idea. There was a yell from Mr. Ladd’s table; as explanation shot about the room, hilarity reached its highest pitch. Immediately a dozen girls stood close to tables, while unsteady hands that held bills fumbled at the tops of stockings.
* * *
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How did your brewing do?
It has the smell, and kicks like hell,
But tastes like rotten glue.
* * *
Pass Her a Palm Fan
“What sort of tree is that?” queried a Chicago girl, touring California.