You Should Worry Says John Henry | Page 2

the Tango I'd be
broken-hearted. Naturally, I'd know that he must have learned it with a
wicked companion in some lawless cabaret. And if he frequented
cabarets without my knowledge--oh, Alice, what would I do?"

I looked at Bunch, he looked at me, and then we both looked out the
window.
"For my part," Alice went on, "I trust Bunch so implicitly that I don't
even question his motive when he telephones me he has to take dinner
in town with a prospective real estate customer."
"And I know enough of human nature," Peaches gurgled, "to be sure
that if either one of them could Tango he would be crazy to show off at
home. I think we're very lucky, both of us, to have such steady-going
husbands, don't you, Alice?"
At this point Aunt Martha buzzed into the other room and the cackle
took on another complexion.
In the meantime Bunch and I had passed away.
"It's cold turkey," I whispered.
"I've been in the refrigerator for ten minutes and I'm chilled to the
bone," Bunch whispered back.
"Can we get our coin away from Ikey?" I asked.
"We can try," Bunch sneezed.
The next afternoon we had Ikey Schwartz for luncheon with us at the St.
Astorbilt. The idea being to dazzle him and get a few of the iron men
back.
"Leave everything to me," Bunch growled as we shaved our hats and
Indian-filed to a trough.
"A quart of Happysuds," Bunch ordered. "How about it, Ikey?"
Ikey flashed a grin and tried to swallow his palate, so it wouldn't
interfere with the wet spell suggested by Bunch.
Ikey belonged to the "dis, dose and dem" push.

Every long sentence he uttered was full of splintered grammar.
Every time Ikey opened his word-chest the King's English screamed for
help, and literature got a kick in the slats.
He was short and thin, but it was a deceptive thinness. His capacity for
storing away free liquids was awe-inspiring and a sin.
I think Ikey must have been hollow from the neck to the ankles, with
emergency bulkheads in both feet.
His nose was shaped like a quarter to six o'clock. It began in the middle
and rushed both ways as hard as it could. One end of it ducked into his
forehead and never did come out.
His interior was sponge-lined, and when the bartenders began to send
them in fast, Ikey would lower an asbestos curtain to keep the fumes
away from his brain.
Nobody ever saw Ikey at high tide.
There was surely something wrong with Ikey's switchboard, because he
could wrap his system around more Indian laughing-juice without
getting lit up than any other man in the world.
But Ikey was the compliments of the season, all right, all right.
Ikey had spent most of his life being a Bookmaker, and when the racing
game went out of fashion he sat down and tried to think what else he
could do. Nothing occurred to him until one day he discovered that he
could push his feet around in time to music, so he became a dancing
instructor and could clean up $1,000 per day if the bartenders didn't
beckon too hard.
The luncheon had been ordered and Bunch was just about to switch the
conversation around to the subject of rebates when suddenly his eyes
took on the appearance of saucers, and tapping me on the arm he
gasped, "Look!"

I looked, and beheld Peaches, Alice and Aunt Martha sailing over in
our direction.
With a whispered admonition to Bunch to keep Ikey still, I went
forward to meet friend wife, her aunt and Alice.
They were as much surprised as I was.
"It was such a delightful day that Aunt Martha couldn't resist the
temptation to do a little shopping," Peaches rattled on; "and then we
decided to come here for a bit of luncheon--hello, Bunch! I'm so glad to
see you! John, hadn't we better take another table so that your friendly
conference may not be interrupted?"
I hastened to assure Peaches that it wasn't a conference at all. We had
met Mr. Schwartz quite by accident. Then I introduced Ikey to the
ladies.
He got up and did something that was supposed to be a bow, but you
couldn't tell whether he was tying his shoe or coming down a
stepladder.
When Ikey tried to bend a Society double he looked like one of the
pictures that goes with a rubber exerciser, price 75 cents.
After they had ordered club sandwiches and coffee I explained to
Peaches and the others that Mr. Schwartz was a real estate dealer. Ikey
began to swell up at once.
"Bunch and I are going in a little deal with Mr. Schwartz," I explained.
"He knows the real estate business