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On her second day at the ranch she suddenly came behind Jerry Tressady seated on the piano bench and slipped a sheet of music before him. "Won't you just run over that last chorus for me, Mr. Tress'dy?" asked Belle. "I have to sing that at a party Thursday night and I can't seem to get it." No maid between Washington Square and the Bronx Zoo would have asked this favor.
"Sure, Mis' Tress'dy Say, listen! I can match that insertion I spilled ink on in Emville. Isn't that the limit? I can fix it so it'll never show in the world!" "I wouldn't stand that girl for one minute," said Mrs. Porter to her husband; but this was some weeks later when the Porters were in a comfortable Pullman, rushing toward New York.
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