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"The crowd in your office would give you a banquet if you sold something," Merkle told him. Wharton, Senior, pressed for further information. "Where did you learn those Argentine wiggles?" "Hard times are to blame, dad. The old men on the Exchange play golf all day, and the young ones turkey-trot all night. I stay up late in the hope that I may find a quarter that some suburbanite has dropped.
Now about this girl he's in love with?" "That happened about three months ago. He met her at one of those roof-garden, midnight cabaret, turkey-trot palaces in New York " "Yes, I know. I always take in the sights when I go to New York, but the last time I was at that one up near Fifty-fourth Street the noise bothered me.
I make friends with lonely derelicts whose digestions have foundered on seas of vichy and buttermilk, and I show them the joys of alcoholism without cost. We share each other's pleasures and perplexities, at my expense. They are my brothers. I am optimistic; I laugh; I play cards for money; I turkey-trot.
I can't ask you to lunch, because I am having seven maidens, and afterward Victor Polideon to teach us to turkey-trot." "I wouldn't be afraid of seven devils," Wilmot urged in his own behalf, "if you were present." "There are only two," she said practically, "and they are very little devils. But I won't let you come, because you would have much too good a time." Then she relented.
"Don't talk like a bourgeois," said Tess. Missy applied the wet poppy. At the barn, "the coachman" was luckily absent, so Tess could harness up her steed without embarrassing questions. At the sight of the steed of the occasion, Missy's spirits for a moment sagged a bit; nor did old Ben present a more impressive appearance when, finally, he began to turkey-trot down Maple Avenue.
"Come later, about three, and teach me to turkey-trot. You do it better than Polideon. And I hate to have him touch me." "That's something," he exclaimed triumphantly. "What's something?" "That you don't hate for me to touch you." She laughed and tapped his shoulder in rag-time. Also she whistled, and did a quiet suspicion of a turkey-trot with her feet.
California, which produces the maximum of scenery and the minimum of weather; California, which grows the biggest men, trees, vegetables and fleas in the world, and the most beautiful women, babies, flowers and fruits; California, which, on the side, delivers a yearly crop of athletes, boxers, tennis players, swimmers, runners and a yearly crop of geniuses, painters, sculptors, architects, authors, musicians, actors, producers and photographers; California, where every business man writes novels, or plays, or poetry, or all three; California, which has spawned the Coppa, Carmel and San Quentin schools of literature; California, where all the ex-pugs become statesmen and all the ex-cons become literateurs; California, the home of the movie, the Spanish mission, the golden poppy, the militant labor leader, the turkey-trot, the grizzly-bear, the bunny-hug, progressive politics and most American slang; California, which can at a moment's notice produce an earthquake, a volcano, a geyser; California, where the spring comes in the fall and the fall comes in the summer and the summer comes in the winter and the winter never comes at all; California, where everybody is born beautiful and nobody grows old that California is populated mainly with Californiacs.
All this he discovered while he stood in the doorway of the Hotel de Soto grill, and watched Nell, the ex-chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo, doing the turkey-trot and the fox-trot and the grizzly-bear and the bunny-hug in the arms of a young man with the face of a bulldog. Peter stood for a long while in a daze.
He found the Castles willing and eager to co-operate, not only because of the publicity it would mean for them, but because they were themselves not in favor of the new mode. They had little sympathy for the elimination of the graceful dance by the introduction of what they called the "shuffle" or the "bunny-hug," "turkey-trot," and other ungraceful and unworthy dances.
Well, I'll go out and get some lunch. Will you be ready in half an hour?" "Yes I've just time to run through these letters." "Very well. Au revoir! I'll be back at half-past two." He went out, and Antonia joyfully pirouetted round the room before settling to work somewhat to the surprise of Barry, who entered at that moment. "Hallo, Miss Gibbs practising the turkey-trot, or what?"
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