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Show HY DUNNLETS. H "Say, friend," said Hyrum as Pete took the I order on the balcony at the Royal, "why didn't I I ever get steered down here before? A lot of H fine friends I've got keepin' this all to themselves B Gee- ain't the rubberin' fine?" " H I thoroughly agreed. B "Nearly all in the maiden class and it seems I they are 'mudders,' who every thought a bunch of B live ones would dare to come out in weather like B this? I didn't know there was so many poii H dotting the population." H Look at that heiress over there, what's she B doin' in this town? Don't she know about that B place they call New York look, look, why sakes B alive, I believe I saw her wink say, I know that B girl on the square, I think she's the same as B held revival meetings in Bisbee in '69, and when B the revival business didn't pay, she moved to Red B Dog, showed as Lobstercia, the Viennese dancer, B and took all the kopeks out of town. ' H "I fear you're wrong, Hyrum," I interrupted, "that lady is a swell voman from Boston, where H she worked in a shoe factory." Hyrum's face I fell. You know his specialty is straight comedy I with a tinge of pathos, and I could see for the I nonce, he was disappointed. H "Look at that Tiomespun over there," he con- I tinued, "and by all the pat hands that were ever I held, she's eatin' pie. When I first knew her she I was cuttin' into the hard-tack, and was glad to I get it. The pace the human race is settln' now- I adays is somethin' awful. Pie in the middle Qf the daj' extravagance!" H "How do you like that soubrette over there?" I I inquired timidly. H "I wouldn't stop her on a desert," said Hy- B rum, "you see that far-away look in them eyes- H nothing to it, she's hibgrnatin', existin' only for I the Salt Palace to open. Just yell 'two Annies' I and watch her jump and look pleasant. Who I are those Gardenias toying with the pile of Van I Camps? They look like heiresses to me, and I'll bet they could be won with a bunch of lilacs and a couple of yards of baby talk. Wow! look at I that pippin getting the Chicquot fumes out of I her head with a flagon of clam juice, ain't she the real " I |
