maine Joe is the first to spot 'em. This tomato could pick out Désirée two miles away in a fog—he was cuckoo over her, that's the answer. Kid Roberts merely smiles pleasantly as he drags off his cap and bows, but Désirée is just quiverin' with joy.
"Bonjour, mon cher, comment allez-vous?" she says.
"Très bien, merci; et vous? Comment vous portez-vous donc ce matin?" says Kid Roberts, which would of made a monkey out of Napoleon when it comes to talkin' frog.
Then he shakes hands with Désirée's old man and looks from the smilin' girl to the scowlin' chauffeur.
"What's the trouble?" he asks her.
A epidemic of shoulder shakin' and hand wavin' begins.
"Thees cochon," she says, pointin' a sneerin' finger at the frownin' chauffeur. "Thees cochon I engage for drive us to ze 'otel what you call Reetz. Name of a name! He drive us now for two hour around ze park and when I say where is zat 'otel, he tells me 'Nevaire you min', kit, what you care? I geeve you nize long ride!'"
"The old army game!" growls Ptomaine Joe, and swings at the scared taxi driver. "I'm goin' to rune him!"
Kid Roberts and me grabs Ptomaine, whilst the chauffeur backs away in a panic.
"Lay off me, boss!" he says. "I don't want no frolic with you, that's a cinch! I—I'll pay the fare out of me own pocket—I—I ain't lookin' for no muss, I"
"That will do!" Kid Roberts cuts him off sternly.
