Billy Baxter's Letters [9]
Robert E. Lees, I could see waving green fields and fruit-laden orchards, and kind-faced old cows standing in silvery streams of water. I couldn't remember of owing a cent, and the drawing-room lamp looked like a flood of golden sunshine. Jim, I have never been against the pipe, because I'm too young, but if it beats the Robert E. Lee punch, I'll have to go after it. I took one more dipper of Robert E. Lee, and then I decided that any girl who could make that kind of a mix could have me for better or for worse; and if I didn't propose right there I'll eat your hat. I told her that I had loved her madly for months, but had never found the courage to say so till that night. I also mentioned the fact that even if she was very small and I was large, and even if the people in the church would say we looked like Rhode Island and Texas marching out together, that it made no difference where true love was concerned. I finished it all up with a look that would have melted the heart of a bank dealer. My work must have been a little to the sandpaper, or I may have backed up kind of foolish like, or something. Whatever it was, she answered, "Billy, your brother's hair is a good deal darker than yours, isn't it?" Now, what do you think of that frosty-hearted fairy? Literally forced me to drink that punch, gets me ripened up, and then throws the hooks into me. As a love-maker I guess I am a shine. Jim, have you ever gone home late at night and told yourself in front of the mirror how you loved some girl? and have you ever seen that same girl walking along the street the next day with another fellow, and the instant you discovered them, did a great big lump come into your breast? And did you immediately think of a lot of things about the fellow you didn't like, although previously you had rather admired him? Well, that thing you get in your breast is what we experts call the love lump, and you were placing yourself in a position to later on become a kind of Patsy to that girl.
Isn't that love lump all the money, though? It makes a well-developed case of indigestion look like a sunny summer day. When you come to figure it all over, there's nothing to that jealousy thing. I used to be Billy Brighteyes, and sneak out to my regular's home, thinking that perhaps I would catch some one else there. What do I do now? Why, I telephone that I will be out in thirty minutes. What you don't know won't hurt you.
Jim, what has ever become of that girl you were so crazy about a couple of years ago? I guess maybe she didn't put a dent into your heart that a person could drive a four-in-hand into and never touch the sides, a regular Hoosac Tunnel. Then when she had you all ribbed up and done to a turn, she said, "I love Mr. Hawkins and Mr. Hawkins loves me. Good by, Jim; take care of yourself." You couldn't have gotten a better jolt on the B. & 0. You will pardon my suppressed merriment, but that girl certainly made you look like a trailer. Never mind, Jim, old pal, we have all had a crimp put into us at one time or another, and if you work hard and observe good hours you'll get over it in four or five years. It's nothing at all.
I have often thought I would land a girl with coin, blow business, and sit around for a while. It would be great to have your own hearthstone with a couple of registered St. Bernard's lying around, and here and there a golden-haired darling romping and playing with a bottle of paregoric. But somehow or other I always fall down. Now, take that Katherine Clark, who has been visiting the Hemingways for the past month. When she first came I said to myself, "Billy, my boy, here's your chance; break in and cop out an heiress." So I sicked myself on to her. Well, you know I'm not a piker. I went after her right. Eats, drinks, shows, and all the expensive things. I touched Johnny Black's brother-in-law for fifty, and gave an informal luncheon that was a pippin. I wore my New York Central shirt with the four stripes, and we had wine with cobwebs. There wasn't a thing
Isn't that love lump all the money, though? It makes a well-developed case of indigestion look like a sunny summer day. When you come to figure it all over, there's nothing to that jealousy thing. I used to be Billy Brighteyes, and sneak out to my regular's home, thinking that perhaps I would catch some one else there. What do I do now? Why, I telephone that I will be out in thirty minutes. What you don't know won't hurt you.
Jim, what has ever become of that girl you were so crazy about a couple of years ago? I guess maybe she didn't put a dent into your heart that a person could drive a four-in-hand into and never touch the sides, a regular Hoosac Tunnel. Then when she had you all ribbed up and done to a turn, she said, "I love Mr. Hawkins and Mr. Hawkins loves me. Good by, Jim; take care of yourself." You couldn't have gotten a better jolt on the B. & 0. You will pardon my suppressed merriment, but that girl certainly made you look like a trailer. Never mind, Jim, old pal, we have all had a crimp put into us at one time or another, and if you work hard and observe good hours you'll get over it in four or five years. It's nothing at all.
I have often thought I would land a girl with coin, blow business, and sit around for a while. It would be great to have your own hearthstone with a couple of registered St. Bernard's lying around, and here and there a golden-haired darling romping and playing with a bottle of paregoric. But somehow or other I always fall down. Now, take that Katherine Clark, who has been visiting the Hemingways for the past month. When she first came I said to myself, "Billy, my boy, here's your chance; break in and cop out an heiress." So I sicked myself on to her. Well, you know I'm not a piker. I went after her right. Eats, drinks, shows, and all the expensive things. I touched Johnny Black's brother-in-law for fifty, and gave an informal luncheon that was a pippin. I wore my New York Central shirt with the four stripes, and we had wine with cobwebs. There wasn't a thing