Despair would grab him and he'd be Oscar with the souse thing for
sure.
When he would recover strength enough to walk down town without
attracting the attention of the other side of the street, he would
call on Lena and say, "Lena, forgive me for what I done, but love
is blind--and, besides, I mixed my drinks. Lena, I was on the
downward path and I nearly went to hell."
Then Lena would say, "Why, Oscar, I saw you and your bundle when
you fell in the well, but I didn't know it was as deep as you
mention."
Then they would kiss and make up, and the wedding bells would ring
just as soon as Oscar's salary grew large enough to tease a
pocketbook.
But these days the idea is altogether different.
Children are hardly out of the cradle before they are arrested for
butting into the speed limit with a smoke wagon.
Even when they go courting they have to play to the gallery.
Nowadays Gonsalvo H. Puffenlotz walks into the parlor to see Miss
Imogene Cordelia Hoffbrew.
"Wie gehts, Imogene!" says Gonsalvo.
"Simlich!" says Imogene, standing at right angles near the piano
because she thinks she is a Gibson girl.
"Imogene, dearest," Gonsalvo continues; "I called on your papa in
Wall Street yesterday to find out how much money you have, but he
refused to name the sum, therefore you have untold wealth!"
Gonsalvo pauses to let the Parisian clock on the mantle tick, tick,
tick!
He is making the bluff of his life you see, and he has to do even
that on tick.
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