Ladies-In-Waiting

“Good-bye, Miss Tucker!” “Good luck, Miss Tommy!” “Bye, bye, Tomsie!” “Don’t stay away too long!” These sentiments were being called from the Hoboken dock to the deck of an ocean steamer, while a young lady, buried in bouquets and bonbons, leaned over the rail, sparkling, inciting, compelling, responding. “Take care of yourself, Tommy!” “I don’t see but that I must! Nobody else to do it!” she responded saucily. “You wouldn’t let ’em if they tried!” This from a rosy-cheeked youngster who was as close to the water’s edge as safety permitted. “Say, did you guess what my floral offering was to be when you trimmed your hat? I am flattered!” “Sorry! The hat was trimmed weeks ago, and I’m wearing your bouquet because it matches.” “Thanks, awfully,” replied the crestfallen youth. “Plans for reduction of head-size constantly on file in Miss Tucker’s office.” “Just Carl’s luck to hit on a match.” “Don’t see any particular luck in being accessory to a hat trimming,” grumbled Carl.