crackin' chatter and open admiration, was just about the kind of bracer Kid Roberts needed. All pretty women is that way—a heady wine. Sip with caution and they're a tonic, but begin gulpin' down and—good night!
Well, to make a long story longer, I organize a party to go to the ball game one day to break up the monotony of the Kid's trainin' for the Battlin' Miller bout. Ptomaine Joe invites Beatrice Brown, which didn't want to have him around and didn't want to go till she heard Kid Roberts was goin', and then it was a case of try and keep her away! Our entrance to the ball park creates somethin' of a stir as the Kid is recognized and the news photographers aim their cameras at us, all of which tickles Beatrice silly. The way she snuggled up to Kid Roberts so's to be in the picture with him drove the love-lorn Ptomaine wild. Then one of the ball club officials sees us and makes a large fuss over Kid Roberts. He won't have it no other way but that the ex-heavyweight champion and party has a box on the house. As we crowd into it, Kid Roberts gasps and falls back against me, treadin' all over my feet. Followin' his glance, I do a piece of gaspin' myself, for amongst the party in the next box is no less than Dolores and Don Miguel Espinosa.
Swelterin' canine!
Lookin' around, they seen us right away, and Dolores turns a flamin' red, matchin' the crimson of the Kid's face. Kid Roberts merely bows coldly and sits down, apparently as unconcerned as if the adjoinin' box was vacant. Dolores immediately begins to read her
