These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at swell yachting parties.
Goliah and the purple lid -- How Maizie came through -- Where Spotty fitted in -- A grandmother who got going -- A long shot on DeLancey -- Playing Harold both ways -- Cornelia shows some class -- Doping out an odd one -- Handing Bobby a blank -- Marmaduke slips one over -- A look in on the goat game -- Mrs. Truckles' broad jump -- Heiney takes the gloom cure -- A try-out for Toodleism -- The case of the Tiscotts -- Classing Tutwater right -- How Hermy put it over -- Joy riding with aunty -- Turning a trick for Beany.
er saw, she's about the haughtiest. Maybe you can throw on the screen a picture of a female party with a Lillian Russell shape, hair like Mrs. Leslie Carter's, and an air like a twelve-dollar cloak model showin' off a five hundred-dollar lace dress to a bookmaker's bride.
Just as Daggett tiptoes up she's pattin' down some of the red puffs that makes the back of her head look like a burnin' oil tank, and she swings around languid and scornful to see who it is that dares butt in on her presence. All the way she recognizes him is by a little lift of the eyebrows.
I don't need to hear the dialogue. I can tell by her expression what Daggett is saying. First there's a kind of condescendin' curiosity as he begins, then she looks bored and turns back to the mirror, and pretty soon she sings out, "What's that?" so you could hear her all over the shop. Then Daggett springs his proposition flat.
"Sir!" says she, jumpin' up and glarin' at him.
Daggett tries to soothe her down; but it's no go.<