"Here's a nice little car?" I says when I sees the Chev. "Wonder how she runs."
And I goes and gets in and starts it!
Well sir— You know how women carry on. She cusses me out, and she beefs, and she gets on a rampage, and she says, "Why Lowell Schmaltz," she says, "what do you mean! What'll the owner say?"
"I'll bet he'll do a lot of saying," I laughs, "if he—or she—happens to see me in it!"
"Why, I never knew you to do a thing like that!" she says. "You get right out of that car!"
Say, I had her wild!
"So that's how a fellow gets treated, is it," I says, and I pretend to look hurt, and I gets out, and then I draws her attention to a little card that I'd had tied on the door handle—'d tied it on myself, matter of fact—that said, "To Mamie on her birthday from Woofums"—Woofums—kind of a nut name, but that's what she calls me sometimes when we're kind of fooling around.
Say, maybe she didn't pretty nearly keel over!
