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 of immediately made others once he seen her. Her name was Eva Littleton, she was about five foot two of thrill, and what she fin'ly done to Kid Roberts, the "poet," was plenty!

That same afternoon the crew of Hermit Inn and most of the newly arrived guests got busy and cleared out the biggest room in the place, waxin' the floor and decoratin' the walls with the colors of their kindergarten, which I think was blue, red, purple, green, brown, and black, with a dash of yellow. They broke out a dance that night after dinner and the fun waxed fast and furious. The beauteous Eva gave Kid Roberts no chance to escape and they killed the bulk of the evenin' together, discussin' the newest and oldest poetry when not glidin' around the floor, with little Eva lookin' up into the Kid's eyes like he was Uncle Tom.

A couple of tasty cuteys sees me and Ptomaine givin' lifelike imitations of wallflowers and they make up their sweet little minds to entertain us. Bein' much and contentedly wed to a damsel which would of kept Gulliver's mind off his travels, I would just as soon of bowed out, but Ptomaine greets the ladies with open delight. This big mug is crazier over the girlies than Henry the Eighth was!

We trip a small dance with the girls and then walk out on the pazzaza to talk matters over.

"Of course you will think me stupid," says the home breaker I'm with, "but I can't seem to recall what plays you have written, Mister Begay. Won't you refresh my memory?"

"Absolutely!" I says, without crackin' a grin. "I