"Twelve bucks," he snapped.

"Say, uh, but say, cap'n, Jake thought you'd be able to fix me up for eight ornine a bottle."

"Nup. Twelve. This is the real stuff, smuggled from Canada. This is none o'your neutral spirits with a drop of juniper extract," the honest merchant saidvirtuously. "Twelve bones--if you want it. Course y' comprehend I'm justdoing this anyway as a friend of Jake's."

"Sure! Sure! I understand!" Babbitt gratefully held out twelve dollars. Hefelt honored by contact with greatness as Hanson yawned, stuffed the bills,uncounted, into his radiant vest, and swaggered away.

He had a number of titillations out of concealing the gin-bottle under hiscoat and out of hiding it inside his desk. All night he snorted and chuckledand gurgled over his ability to "give the Boys a real shot in the armto-night." He was, in fact, so exhilarated that he was within a block of hishouse before he remembered that there was a certain matter, mentioned by hiswife, of fetching ice cream from Vecchia's. He explained, "Well, darn it--"and drove back.

Vecchia was not a caterer, he was The Caterer of Zenith. Most coming-outparties were held in the yellow and platinum ballroom of the Maison Vecchia; at allnice teas the guests recognized the five kinds of Vecchia sandwiches and theseven kinds of Vecchia cakes; and all really smart dinners ended, as on aresolving chord, in Vecchia Neapolitan ice cream in one of the three reliablemolds--the melon mold, the round mold like a layer cake, and the long brick.