" He explodes in another fit of laughter.
The ladies stare at him in mystification.
Mrs. Roberts: "I would have stayed myself to meet her, but I'd left my
plush bag with my purse in it at Stearns's, and I had to go back after
it."
Mrs. Campbell: "She _had_ to leave him. What is there to laugh at?"
Mrs. Roberts: "I see nothing to laugh at, Willis."
Campbell, sobered: "You _don't_?"
Both Ladies: "No."
Campbell: "Well, by Jove! Then perhaps you don't see anything to laugh
at in Roberts's having to guess who the cook was; and going up to the
wrong woman, and her getting mad, and going out and bringing back her
little fiery-red tipsy Irishman of a husband, that wanted to fight
Roberts; and my having to lie out of it for him; and their going off
again, and the husband coming back four or five times between drinks,
and having to be smoothed up each time--"
Both Ladies: "No!"
Mrs. Roberts: "It was simply horrid."
Mrs. Campbell: "It wasn't funny at all; it was simply disgusting. Poor
Mr. Roberts!"
Campbell: "Well, by the holy poker! This knocks me out! The next time
I'll marry a man, and have somebody around that can appreciate a joke.
The Irishman said himself it would make a cow laugh.
Pages:
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44