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 mob on hand to lamp the world's champion. As outside the ring, Kid Roberts looked like anything in the world but a prize fighter, half the witnesses pegged Knockout Burns for the title holder, and this big bozo stood up in the car and took eight bows before I yanked him down in the seat. We hold a short reception, and then over comes a little guy entitled Cuthbert Van Dyke, whose name I hear is really Luther O'Brien and who's knowed around the lot as "Joe." He walks right up to Knockout Burns and grabs his hand. "Well, well, well," he says. "This is certainly a treat. So this is the famous Kid Roberts, eh? Well, well, well! How d'ye like California?"

"Fried!" says Knockout with a goofy grin. "What time does Charlie Chaplin come to work?"

At this critical point, whilst the hysterics is at their height and Van Dyke's face is redder than fifty cents' worth of tomatoes, Kid Roberts steps into the breeches and introduces us all around. Van Dyke turns out to be the guy which is goin' to direct the Kid's movie, and he seems dumfounded at the way the boy handles the President's english, and likewise because the champ looks and acts like he was more used to a dress suit than fightin' trunks. Amongst the others which shares our charmin' director's surprise is Nada Nice, which is carded to be the Kid's leadin' lady in the forthcomin' thriller. The fair Nada had evidently expected to be at the loss how to put a world's champion prize fighter at his ease, but before they talked ten minutes Kid Roberts—late of Yale and Fifth Avenue—was tryin' to make Nada feel comfortable.

They is not the slightest doubt that Nada Nice was