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Updated: May 28, 2025
I'd lunched luxurious on an egg sandwich and a war doughnut that Vincent had brought up to me from the arcade automat, and I'd 'phoned Vee that I might not be out home until the 11:13, when in blows this potty party with the poison ivy leaves on his shoulder straps and demands to see Mr. Ellins at once. Course, it's me with my heels together doin' the zippy salute.
I'll admit she don't look it, 'specially under the pink-shaded counter light when she's had a henna treatment lately and been careful to spread the make-up artistic. The jet ear danglers helps some, too. Then there are them misbehavin' eyes. Also when it comes to light and frivolous chat Mirabelle is right there with the zippy patter. Oh my, yes!
It's some band, though one of these fifteen-piece dance-hall combinations that had just closed a Coney Island engagement and was guaranteed to tear off this affair in zippy style. I left word what station they was to get off at, and 'phoned for a couple of jitneys to meet 'em. For the rest, I was bankin' on my luck.
"For goodness' sake, have an eye single to your record for truth and veracity," said Linda. "Doesn't this begin to smell zippy?" "It certainly does," said Donald. "It's making me ravenous. But honest, Linda, you are a pretty girl." "Honest, your foot!" said Linda scornfully. "I am not a pretty girl. I am lean and bony and I've got a beak where I should have a nose.
He he's a soldier, you know." "We should be delighted," says Vee. And then she whispers to me: "Hasn't she a nice face, though?" We hadn't waited long before I sees a tall, willowy young thing wearin' one of them zippy French tams come bearin' down on us wavin' energetic and towin' along a red-faced young doughboy who looks like he'd been stuffed into his uniform by a sausage machine.
But in that tight, striped dress with the slashed skirt, and that foolish lid with the two skimpy pink feathers curlin' over the back well, believe me, she was some zippy! "Say, lemme tell you how it happened, won't you?" says she. "If it ain't too long," says I. "I'll make it sketchy," says she.
"Where is the-girl-that-has-the-party's house?" thought she, under her bonnet. "Well, it's by the stone lions, 'most up to the North Pole. Now, Zippy, if we keep a-goin' we shall get there, and we'll see some girls out by the door." Zip wagged his faithful tail, which was quite hidden under the cloak, and they both trudged on, Dotty's heart quivering with wicked delight.
He looks me over sort of doubtful, stroking the zippy little chin tuft as he does it, but he ends by shruggin' his shoulders resigned. "I come," says he, "in quest of Señor Captain Yohness." "Yohness?" says I, tryin' to look thoughtful. "No such party around here that I know of." "It must be," says he. "That I have ascertained." "Oh, well!" says I. "Suppose we admit that much as a starter.
"Ought to be at four fifty a quart. Well, we'll take a chance." Served it in a silver bucket, too. It had the familiar pop, and the bubbles showed plain in the hollow stemmed glasses, but you could drink a gallon of it without feelin' inspired to do anything wilder than call for a life preserver. The roof garden girl-show that we went to afterwards was a zippy performance, after it's kind.
He turns to me with another grin, to see how I'm takin' it. And this time I grins back. "About three hundred!" he shouts, puttin' his mouth close. "Eighty an hour too!" "Zippy stuff!" says I. Then he gives me a nudge, juggles his deflectors, and down we shoots. I never had any part of the map come at me so fast.
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