|I wuz uptown wunce w'en I had de time uv me life. Dere's a good many
uv de mob around de Reservation wot ain't never been uptown. Dey never
travelled an' don't know nuttin'. Yer kin rend t'ings out uv books an'
papers but you've got ter see 'em if yer want ter git next rite.
Dat's de only way.
Well, dis is de way dis trip happened.
A bloke wot lives uptown an' knows all erbout it an' who's er kind uv er
pal uv mine on account uv me knowin' him so long cum down wun nite an'
tips me off dat he wants ter take me an' me gal up to er swell dump
w'ere dere's er racket. I wuz afraid dat I would have ter dig up wun uv
dose funny suits uv clothes wid er white shirt, but he said nixey, dat
it wuz all rite ter go just as I wuz. So I hussies around and digs up
Slats--me bundle, yer know--an' off we start.
“Cum on,” sez de swell bloke, “let's take er car.”
“No,” sez I, “let's do de Dan O'Leary--walk, yer know--an' blow in de
car far fer er cupple uv mugs uv ale.”
It wuz like goin' ter China fer Slats, fer she always stuck to de block,
an' by de time we got ter Fourteenth street she wuz hancin' on ter me
right wing like.
I give her a waist hold wot almost took her off her pins. “Dis guy hez
got us uptown here an' if yer ain't careful he'll switch an' drop us
in an ice wagon an' give us er freeze out. So keep dat kisser uv yours
barricaded an' consider yerself stuffed 'til yer git back.”
Just den de bloke we wuz wid handed me er segar dat wuz er beaut. It
must hev cost ten cents, enny-how.
Den Slats opened up ag'in.
“Say, Willie,” she sez, “yer ain't got er cigaret, hev yer?”
“Sure,” sez he, an' he hands her er box uv 'em.
Well, she copped de whole bunch an handed him back de empty box.
De bloke looked at me an' I looked at Slats an' she looked at de
cigaret's. Wot do yer t'ink uv dat fer gall?
W'en I got er chance I whispered:
“Say, w'ere's de bloke's cigaret's?”
“Wot bloke's cigaret's?” she sez.
“W'y de bloke wot brought us up here.”
Den she gives me de old gaserline smile and sez:
“Ah, fergit it.”
“I won't fergit it, an' wot do ver tink uv dat?” sez I.
“Well, try an' fergit it,” sez she.
Dat took all de asbestos out uv me fer a minnit, so I sez:
“All rite me old bundle, I'll put de kibosh on you w'en we git back ter
de Reservation.”
By this time she wuz gittin' kinder used ter de lights, an' I could see
she wuz gittin' fresh. So I t'ought dat maybe I'd hev ter hand her wun
just ter keep her in her place, w'en we pulled up in frunt uv er big
joint.
“Wot dump is dis?” sez Slats.
“Dis is er hotel,” sez he.
Wid dat Slats give me er nudge wid de elbow an' wun uv dem bum winks.
“Whoever heard uv er hotel ez big ez dat?” sez she an' she wouldn't
stand fer it fer er minnit.
In de front dere wuz er lot uv swell bundles wid all kinds uv togs on an
quarries--yer know di'monds--in dere ears. I wuz takin' dem all in an'
Slats wuz pipin' in der frunt winders at der guys wid de feed bags on,
w'en de bloke we wuz wid hustled us erlong, but she went back ter git
anudder look an' de first t'ing I knew she wuz hollerin':
“Ha, Chuck, Chuck, cum here.”
So I goes back an' dere she wuz wid er laugh on her face dat went from
her ears ter her eyebrows, “Say,” she sez, “pipe de clothes dis mug hez
got on. Dat's grate, ain't it?”
“Dat's er bell boy,” sez de bloke.
“Bell boy, nix,” she sez. “Under de table fer yours. Wot are yer tryin'
ter do, string me? Yer might call him er bell boy, but I don't seen no
bells about him. I t'ink he's er ringer.”
Well, we dragged her away before she got pinched, an' den we landed in
de place w'ere de racket wuz. We took it all in from plush ter creem
cakes, an' we hadn't been dere twenty minuits w'en sum swell mug copped
Slats an' took her away from me. But dat didn't faze me, fer I went down
to de fence wid sum uv de mob an' got t'rowin' booze inter me sistem an'
smokin' dem Hennery Clay butts. After erwhile I sez to meself: “I guess
I'll go an' dig up Slats.”
I wuz lookin' fer her so long dat, on de level, I t'ought I'd get
nearsighted, an' w'en I got er flash uv her w'ere do yer t'ink she
wuz? Over in er corner wid er bloke dat had er lace curtain on his
Mulligan--yer know, whiskers on his face.