Belles on their Toes by Gilbreth Frank B

Author:Gilbreth, Frank B. [Gilbreth, Frank B.; Gilbreth Carey, Ernestine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

"Did you have a nice ride? I'll only be a tiffy." He hurried to the sink and got a glass of water, drank it, and started out.

"Hey, wait a minute," Al growled. "I know you. You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" He made a grab, but Frank got by the tub, and out into the hall. Al didn't follow him.

Ernestine knew about there not being any hot water, because she had taken a bath herself. She was furious, but her guests started arriving and she had no chance to take the boys to task.

Ernestine answered the door and showed her friends to the parlor. There were about twenty of them. We knew them all, and liked them. We pulled back the rugs and started the phonograph.

Al was a little late coming downstairs. It may have been that he was hunched over a radiator, or it may have been that his wardrobe took a good while to adjust, or that he had to change his hair oil.

Ernestine's girl friends kept telling her they were dying to meet Al, and her boy friends said they wanted to meet the out-of-town sheik who had cut them out. None of them had failed to notice the Packard, parked out in front, and they were impressed.

Al finally made his entrance. All the other boys had on suits, but Al apparently preferred sweaters and plus-eights. He had his ukulele with him, and his life-of-the-party smile. He walked over and turned off the phonograph. Everybody stopped dancing, and he had the center of the stage.

"Greetings and salutations, guys and gals," he said, without waiting to be introduced. And this time he actually did do a clog step, ending up on one knee, like Al Jolson.

"A little number," said Ernestine's Al, "entitled 'I Used to Shower My Sweetie With Presents, But It Ain't Gonna Rain No More.' "

He threw back his head and started to strum the uke and to sing. "Dew ackker dew ackker dew, vo doe dee oh doe."

There was no doubt he could play the ukulele, all right. And his baritone was much better than in the icy bathtub. But you just couldn't start out a party that way, even in the Jazz Age. Maybe after midnight, after everybody had got to know him better, it might have gone over.

Ern's guests stood there woodenly, looking first at her and then at Mother, who was sitting near the fireplace with some knitting. No matter what Mother may have felt, she showed no disapproval.

Ernestine tried to help her beau. She started to Charleston alongside of him, and shouted "Come on everybody." She even licked first her right thumb and then her left, in a series of windmill gyrations known as pickin' cherries.

But it still didn't go over. And the worst of it was that everyone except Al realized exactly what Ern was doing and why she was doing it. They were pulling for her. Some of her girl friends started to Charleston alongside of her. And some of the boys began to sing along with Al.

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