“They ain’t no danger of him gettin’ dizzy,” says Bessie. “The only thing is that he’s prob’ly used to settin’ in the high-priced seats and would be embarrassed amongst the riff and raff.”
“He can wear a false mustache for a disguise.”
“He’s got a real one,” says Bessie.
“He can shave it off, then,” says I.
“I wouldn’t have him do that for the world,” says Bessie. “It’s too nice a one.”
“You can’t judge a mustache by seein’ it oncet,” I says. “It may be a crook at heart.”
“This ain’t gettin’ us nowheres,” says the Missus. “They’s still a question before the house.”
“It’s up to Bess to give the answer,” I says. “Bishop and his lip shield are invited if they’ll set in a three-dollar seat.”
“It’s off, then,” says Bessie, and beats it in the guest room and slams the door.
“What’s the matter with you?” says the Missus.
“Nothin’ at all,” I says, “except that I ain’t no millionaire scenario writer. Twenty dollars is twenty dollars.”
“Yes,” the Missus says, “but how many times have you lost more than that playin’ cards and not thought nothin’ of it?”
“That’s different,” I says. “When I spend money in a card game it’s more like a investment. I got a chance to make somethin’ by it.”