He gasped, and mopped his face and forehead, leaving a little island of moisture on the top of his head untouched.

After a moment, he gained breath and settled down a little.

Then he burst out: "Are you coming to my party, O effendi?
There'll be high jinks, there'll be welcome, there'll be room; For to-morrow we are pulling stakes for Shendy.
Are you coming to my party, O Nahoum ?" "Say, I guess that's pretty good on the spur of the moment," he wheezed, and, taking his inseparable note book from his pocket, wrote the impromptu down.

"I guess She'll like that-it rings spontaneous.

She'll be tickled, tickled to death, when she knows what's behind it." He repeated it with gusto.