Evening Star Newspaper, September 27, 1936, Page 77

ol September 27, 1936 HE girl looked mournfully out past the harmonious arrangement of ferns and flowers in her window. It was such a beautiful day she was sure there was no hope. In stormy weather there was just a chance that someone dashing for a train might find it easier to dive into her little shop, so convenient to the station that a taxi could ssafely be dismissed, than to send flowers from one of the more pretentious places in front of which there was seldom room to park. Of course it had been a mistake to locate close to the terminal. Going to the country, people didn’t take flowers and coming back they brought them with them. She sighed and went to her cash register to count its contents. $1.89. All that was left of her investment. Well, at least she had no debts. She resumed her seat on the end of the counter at the front of the shop. It seemed to her that she had spent endless days there, watching for the customers who came so rarely. Of a sudden the sky had clouded over and she saw a young man staring in the window. She had often seen him looking in. She wondered what he was thinking about and would have been greatly surprised had she known. Cute girl in there. He wondered if she owned the shop. Probably. Gosh, but she looked downhearted! Well, after all, why not? He never had seen any customers, and he’'d been watching for months. It struck him she was getting thin. Sort of pale and peaked. He'd thought two or three times that he'd like to go in and buy a lot of flowers just to . cheer her up. Only, to whom could he send them? No women. Women were out. The city editor then? He grinned at the thought of that individual’s reception of a large bunch of roses with a passionate message attached. Yet why not do it? It would be fun and might prove an entering wedge to an ac- quaintance with the girl. Maybe he could “PUT UP YOUR HANDS,” ORDERED THE MAN WITH THE GUN. “THIS IS A HOLD-UP" J INSTINCT Shy in the presence of a pretty girl, but right on the trigger when it came to business! The story of a wild idea that worked both ways by THERESE BENSON manage to ask her out to dine. Only he was so darn shy about making advances. Hang it all, it was raining. He turned up his collar. And then an idea came to him. He looked furtively up and down the deserted street. The storm was increasing every minute. It had come up suddenly, but it was going to last for some time and apparently everybody who had a home to go to had already gone. Giving himself no time to retreat, he flung open the door and entered the shop in haste. ““This is a stick-up,” he said hoarsely. He meant to go to the cash register and drop into it that wad of bills he had drawn from the bank that morning. That ought to sur- prise any woman. But this girl’s reaction to his announcement left him gaping. “Oh, thank you so much!' she cried fervently. ‘““You don't know how grateful I am. Come with me and I'll show you how to open the cash register. I'm sorry there's so little in it. Only $1.89. It's all I have left, but it'll buy you a lot of food at the Automat. I've often seen you looking in, wishing the flowers were something to eat and growing paler and more peaked all the time.” She manipulated the cash register helpfully. ““It’s too bad there are S0 many pennies,” she apologized. ‘‘It’s because of the tax. I never know what it ought to be. I've a very good pistol here, for which I've a permit; but I'm scared to death of it, so would you mind shooting it off a couple of times for me? I'll give you a good start before I call the police— and the newspapers.”’ ? He picked up the pistol gingerly. It was fully loaded. *‘Come back here,"”” he commanded, striding toward two chairs in the rear of the store. “You're going to tie me up, I suppose. That’ll be fine. It ought to put me on the front page, don’t you think?’’ ‘‘Now you listen to me,” he began severely. *‘No nice girl ought to want to be on the front She giggled. ‘For a gangster, you sound amazingly like my maiden aunt. I tell you if you had a business that was dying on its feet because nobody knew it existed, you'd wel- come the chance of a little helpful publicity.” *No, I wouldn’t. Publicity’s the last thing I'd seek — "’ *Oh, well, in your line, I can understand that. My case is different. It's do or die now. If I sell all the flowers I have here before they fade — and they're fresh today — I'll have enough money to carry on with and maybe make a go of it even yet. So you see you are a godsend. I'm sure the shop will get a new lease of life out of this.” Before he had decided how to reply, the shop door was thrown open and two men Illustvration by J. Karl entered, shutting it sharply behind them. ‘*This is a hold-up.” The girl screamed: ‘““Twice in one after- noon!"”’ *‘Shut up your trap,”” the second man whis- pered, levelling a pistol. There followed two shots in rapid suc- cession, but not from his weapon. One of the newcomers lay stretched on the floor. The escape. “Is that man dead?”’ the girl asked below her breath. “No such luck,” her first visitor declared cheerfully. ‘I merely fired the two shots you asked for. Help me tie him up before he comes to. Then I'll call the city editor at the Globe-Universe and give him the story.” “B“t tm mlke —— P ““This is a scoop, angel. I left my paper when my play made a hit; but once a reporter — Globe-Universe? Give me Schwarz, Matt. I've a hot story. Exclusive. Two hold-ups in one night and a lady backed by an old reporter nabs one of the thieves. Me? Sure. I'll call the police when we’re on the street —"’ He finished his recital to the rewrite man, then turned back to the girl with a smile, ‘‘Listen,” she said with some indignation. ‘“Why all the imagination? If you're a reporter and a playwright, you're no bandit.” “You didn’t know I was only an amateur,” he pointed out. ‘‘What did you really come in for?” “I'm writing a play about a gun-man and 1 hadn’t a notion how he'd feel in a hold-up,” he lied brazenly. ‘‘I had to find out.” Then as she turned away from him with a skeptical lift of an eyebrow: ‘‘Wait! I'll tell you the truth. Romance is my stock in trade, and a shop like this is tHe home of romance. Lovely ladies come here for the flowers to adorn their beauty, and lovers to find love- tokens for their sweethearts — " “‘I only wish they did!"" the girl sighed. “They do,” he persisted. ‘‘I do. I want everything in the shop sent to a girl I've fallen in love with.”’ “‘Everything?"” she asked, astonished. “Everything,” he repeated firmly. “How much?”’ She told him, and he paid her. ‘“Where to?"” she asked. ‘‘With your card, I suppose?”’ —He laid one on the counter, then grinned disarmingly: ‘“You’ll have to supply the address,’” he said. ‘“You see, I don't even know your name.”’ The End