At last, to everybody's relief, he
rose, and leaning over her chair, said:--
"I calklate to stop over here some time, miss, and you and me bein'
sorter strangers here, maybe when there's any show like this goin'
on you'll let me--"
Miss X. said somewhat hastily that the multiplicity of her
engagements and the brief limit of her stay in New York she feared
would, etc., etc. The two other ladies had their handkerchiefs
over their mouths, and were staring intently on the stage, when the
Man from Solano continued:--
"Then, maybe, miss, whenever there is a show goin' on that you'll
attend, you'll just drop me word to Earle's Hotel, to this yer
address," and he pulled from his pocket a dozen well-worn letters,
and taking the buff envelope from one, handed it to her with
something like a bow.
"Certainly," broke in the facetious Dashboard, "Miss X. goes to the
Charity Ball to-morrow night. The tickets are but a trifle to an
opulent Californian, and a man of your evident means, and the
object a worthy one. You will, no doubt, easily secure an
invitation.
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