The new year was less than five minutes old as the Vagabond, or someone, at least who might well have been mistaken for him, was reclining in a comfortable sofa at a country club. Next to him sat a beautiful creature of, shall we say, the gentler sex. Perhaps the opposite sex would more accurately convey our meaning, for the Vagabond is essentially a virile specimen.

An empty champagne glass in the Vagabond's hand bore evidence of the new year's proper reception and with the Vagabond all was well. He remembered, a trifle vaguely, perhaps, that he would not roam the halls of learning until the mid year examinations; besides, we have remarked, perhaps we should say confessed, the glass was empty. Then, too, it has been recorded that the Vagabond's companion was fair, was, it may be said, shall, in fact, be said, nothing short of well favored.

From the next room but one we had almost said the adjacent room, came the strains of syncopation, and the Vagabond, not given to such things, realized almost with a start, that he was sitting out a dance with a veritable "wow", a "knock-out", a "hot mama". (Note the quotation marks, which show that the Vagabond does not wholly approve of the vulgar phrasing, used here only for emphasis. The gist of what he means to convey, and the terms the Vagabond himself would use, being a gentleman of the old school, would be belle, or shall we say charmer.)

"The best things in life are free", were the startling words which dropped from the divine lady's, shall be say tempress' lips at exactly the moment we are now writing about, and the Vagabond sat up with amazing rapidity, almost, it might be said, with alacrity. Did she mean the champagne? Impossible--she had had only one glass--her first, the Vagabond could have sworn. No, decidedly, she couldn't mean the champagne. Some rejoinder was necessary. The Vagabond searched his cataloguic, almost encyclopedeaic mind for the things of the world that are free. Free speech--bad in a democratic country. Free press--even the tabloids cost, or retail at, two cents. Free lunch--scarcely to be classed among the best things of this mortal sphere. Free love--ah! was this a hint? Did the fair damsel suggest amorous dalliance. Impossible. There was no mistletoe. Besides amorous dalliance might be called "petting", a thing abhorrent to gentlemen of the old school who indulged only in spooning. But still, she had had a glass of champagne....Could it have gone to her head as had the more capious libations imbibed by the wanderer?

Ridiculous. The girl was no....ahem..."flapper". Those clear eyes were to transparently frank to habour double meanings, or shall we call it double entente? Was she a philosopher?....Did that noble brow shield an intellect comparable to her outward beauty?..Was this her philosophy of life?

--The Vagabond stood irresolute, no, he was sitting--and silent. Just then the music swung into pianissimo and the violinist rendered a vocal solo. The Vagabond listened, hoping, nay praying, for a suggestion in the words that might provide a topic for small talk, however banal. The violinist's voice was excellent....What was he saying?

....."The best things in life are free" came the words, and the Vagabond felt relieved. A worthy successor to "Horses, Horses, Horses", "Yes, We Have No Bananas", and "Barney Google"!

"Yes," said the girl, "the words don't mean much, but it's a pretty tune."

"Madam," said the Vagabond, rising to his full stature, "shall we dance?"