a wink at his friends. "By the way, Tubblets, do you know what I heard some girls say last week? They said they thought you were a regular fashion plate."
"Now did they really?" gushed the dude, much pleased. "Who—er—said it?"
"Two girls living not many miles from here."
"You—ah—don't happen to know their names?"
"No. But I can tell you all about them."
"Ah! Then please do, Tom," said the dude eagerly. To have any young ladies think of him pleased him immensely.
"Well, these are a couple of young ladies who work in a laundry. Maybe they wash your shirts. They are colored, and"
"Colored!" gasped the dude, and then a shout of laughter went up, in the midst of which William Philander started to leave the room.
"Don't go away mad, Billy," cried Tom. "Isn't it nice even to have two dusky damsels think of you?"
"No, it is not—it is—is horrid!" answered William Philander. "I think you are—er—poking fun at me."
"Never did such a thing in my life, my dear fellow—it's against my internal regulations. But how have you been since the week before next month?"
