“We managed to secure a box and were seated surveying the dancers, of which there were a few, and the wine agents, of which there was a herd, until one of the said agents happened to spy our little crowd, and with that true Southern gallantry for which wine agents are so noted, he sent over a quart bottle for each one of the party, but in the excitement of the moment forgot to include glasses, so rather than look a gift horse in the mouth, metaphorically speaking, we did not mention the oversight and contented ourselves with drinking out of the bottles in true democratic spirit.  Did you ever imbibe Tiffany Water direct from its native heath, as it were?  No?  Then let me warn you from that lurking pitfall.  It has the same taste, but the effect, di mi, the effect is multiplied by six.

“All of a sudden I became inoculated with a wild desire to burst forth into song, and also with the idea that when it came to tripping the light fantastic toe I had Genee looking like the first lesson in a $5 course.  With that hunch in mind I shook the rest of the mob and descended to the floor accompanied by my personal press agent.  I was wearing, at the time, one of my latest importations both underneath and outside.  When the band for the nineteenth time struck up the ’Merry Widow’ waltz, by permission of Henry W. Savage, I capered out upon the floor, where, much to the edification of the assembled multitude, I pulled off a combination of the ‘Merry Widow’ waltz and Dance of the Seven Veils that will be the talk of the town until Bingham does something else foolish.  Did it cause excitement!  Well, say, if it hadn’t been for the kindness of a friend I would at this time been pacing a prison corridor in striped pajamas.

“Honest, when I came to this morning and Estelle—­that’s my maid—­told me what I had done, I vowed that I never would speak to a wine agent again, for I was just that mortified.  After me remembering to be a lady, and then before a mob to kick over the traces and crab the act.  Believe me, every time I see an advertisement for that brand of wine a blush mantles my cheeks.  Sure, I can blush.  See.  And for tears, it’s just like turning on the faucet in the bath tub.  All the young creatures in our set have to be there with the blush of modesty and the tear tank, for in the heat and gayety of a wine party, when some one springs a travelling man’s story if we couldn’t flash a flush we would be doped out as being brazen hussies, and tears are always handy.  Either for the police, the landlord or an ardent suitor.  The modern girl has to be equipped for any emergency like a hook and ladder truck.  But here I am giving away all our girlish secrets.