The evening world. Newspaper, March 11, 1922, Page 14

a _ H hi Be eo ne a 2 eee \ } e <a THE EVENING WORLD'S FICTION S eonfidence. People had said: “Tom head snuggled against his arm, Tom Winters? Oh, he'll make good in no time! He’s got pep and ambition! Some hustler!” Those were the days when the dream of a house in the suburbg was still fresh enough to be almost within reach. Those were the times when he could still find oceans of pleasure ino strolling down the Avenue of a Sun- day and pointing out the car that he intended to buy very, very soon. But, strangely; the house had materialized into a Ridgewood flat, to and from which he travelled for two hours each day; and the “Suuday outings tn the ear had become weekly pilgrimages either to his mother or to her mother, followed by an evening spent in a stuffy movie house. Tom Winters didn't know how it had all come about. Somewhere along those four years he had been robbed “ef his zeal, of his push, of his desire fo get ahead. He couldn't put his fin- @er upon the exact spot, but it was so hard just to keep existing. When one was through making both ends meet, thete was no room left for additional vim. And then there had been the trans- fer to Melict’s store. Very vaguely Tom recognized that change as the turning point for the worse. It had been preceded by a ten-dollar raise. Mellet’s store was the most impor- tant of the whole chain of haberdash- ery shops, and only the very finest @alesmen were detailed to it. And yet this same Meliet had reduced him to a grind, to a cog in the wheel, to an Obsequious menial who soft-footed be- hind the counter and inquired one’s wishes in a subdued, emotionless voice. And his own subjugation to condi- tions had finally engulfed Rose. There was the piano to prove it. How she had loved to play it in those earlier days when their own little circle had considered her quite a gentus, and the desire to study for concert work flamed in her breast! But the drudg- try and the effort to pay for the little upright had quite killed off that hope, and it now stood untouched, a monu- ment of four years’ self-deprivation. As he sat there puffing at his ciga- rette, Tom Winters tried to place the blame for his failure somewhere. But he couldn't. He had just been dragged under with the tide. And then Rose pattered back from the kitchen, carrying a silver coffee service that had been a wedding gift. Up to this moment she had never used it. It had been such a bother to pol- ish. Rapidly she spread napkins and placed cold chicken upon the table, settling herself to pour cof- fee into the very fine china cups sandwiches Tom Winters was touched. No--he was utterly shaken. “Isn't—won't it be a lot of work to clean that afterward, Roses?" he asked. “Oh, no!” she lied a moment.’ “Won't take but »M ate, and when he himself had cleared away the remains he came and put his hands under his wife's chin, lifting her eyes to his. “Play something, dear.” ay Just for a moment she returned his “ gteady gaze, then quietly seated herself, while her fingers groped over the keys for melodies she had almost forgotten, Tom stood and looked down upon her—watching her red, roughened bands search out the notes. As he fooked, a mist came over his eyes and a lump rose in his throat. He stooped and quickly drew them to his lips. “Oh, don't, Tom.” And then she broke down com- pletely, and he was forced to pick her up, sit down in the wide morris chair, and and comfort hee like a hysterical baby. « It seemed hours before her sobbing oeased and she breathed normally again. Then she placed both hands upon his cheeks and looked straight into his eyes. “Maybe now,” she ventured, “things @ill go a lot easier.” “They will! They will!" promised Tom Winters; and though the words were gentile enough, the purpose that was suddenly born behind them was strong and bitterly determined. And that night, while she slept with @re traces of tears on her face, hor Winters lay wide-eyed, staring out into the darkness. : He had told a lie. For five more weeks he could make good that lie. After that—God! It would out and out kill her faith in him if she ever found out! "God!" Unuttered, the cry went up from his very soul, causing him to clench his hands jin the intensity of that prayer. The Winters didn’t go to their in- laws that Sunday. For'fully half ao hour Tom busied himself with the Sunday paper, making notations as he read the lists of restaurants and places of amusement. Dinner 6.5.6.5. ... $1.50 ea. $3.00 Sunday movie .... .75 ea. 1.50 Car Fare vecccccere 010 oa -20 Within his coat pocket he found 60 cents in loose change, whereupon he took out the card and added still a fifth item: Sodas Total, $5.44 Then he went into the kitchen where Rose luncheon. “Put that away, Rose,” he taking the paring knife from her fin- gers and shoving the pan of potatoes to one side. “We're-—we're have dinner in the city. Come on now, was beginning to prepare ordered, going to os oy 4% oe TOM SELECTED A FEW PLAIN MODELS AND PLACED THEM ECTION, SATURDAY, MARCH 11, 1922. * cover the panicky feeling that really * “The song and my girl.” possessed him. The desserts came and were in due time disposed of. Tom reached into his pocket and drew forth a pack of cigarettes, lighting one, and settling pack in his chair. His first impulse had been to flee as soon as he could, but a dogged persistence to hold his own counseled him otherwise. Burr and his wife rose. There was no need for them to pass Tom's table, yet Burr deliberately edged through the small spaces and came directly toward him. “How-do, Mr. Winters!" he greeted. “How-do, Mr. Burr! Wonderful day, isn’t it? My wife-—-Mr. Burr.” Whereupon Mrs. Burr, who had come up behind, was introduced. A gracious smile pussed between tie women, the dinner was remarked upon, and they were off. “Nice sort of man. isn't he?" asked Rose. “Who? tight.” It Burr? Oh, yes! He's all was Mellet whom Tom hated. “Strange,” he mused to him- self, “how big, how unaffected,. how democratic, the really big men are, pompous their undeelings’— of course, and how Mellet, The movie house which they chose, in his mind—“are. of all the number, to honor with their presence, featured a play dealing with the very problem upon which their — iH H IN THE WINDOW WITH A HAND-LETTERED SIGN. set things and let's out.” lo rights, get T was well toward the end of that festive meal, while the waiter was clearing the table preparatory to serving the desserts, that Tom suddenly sat stiff and erect. “Rose,” he whispered, “there's Burr right over to our side. He's the big boss, you know.” Rose lifted her turned her head. “Who's that with him?” “Wife.” “She—she doesn't look unusual. Just like a nice motherly woman. Do you think he saw you, Tom?” “What if he did? As far as this management is concerned, nobody knows that he's the boss and I'm the employee. My dollar-fifty and his are equally good.” A very sound little speech. A bit eonfident too, but it was uttered to eyes and artfully own lives had so nearly been wrecked. All through it Tom sat silently look- ing ahead. Some time during the per- formance Rose’s hand crept shyly into his own, but he just covered it and continued to stare ahead. Then there was a comedy by way of lightness and relief, and while Rose laughed as he hadn't heard her laugh in a long time, he barely looked at the screen, He was still thinking, YOUNG girl—blond, flower- like, in hoop skirts and bon- net—came out and sang “On the Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond.” As her voice plain- tively and delicately intoned the words, Rose pressed his arm. “I've—I've got that home, Tom,” she whispered. “Can you sing it?” “M-m.," “Pretty thing, all right.” “What? The gong or the girl?” “T-om!" All in all, that day was a day of days. To Tom it brought back all the sweetness, all the softness, all the hushed expectancy that had marked their honeymoon four years before. Even the jolt home in the packed, ill- smelling subway failed to disturb the peaceful spiyit that enveloped him. Tired,/ but inexpressibly happy, they trudged the five long blocks from the station to their flat. That night Tom Winters lay awake again—but it was not to puzzle over what the future might bring; it was to vow to himself, with every fibre, with every breath, that he would keep that smile on Rose's lips; that he would make it easier for laughter to come and for song to bubble forth. And so, in a new frame of mind, whistling cheerily, Tom Winters arose on Monday morning and set forth to work. Yet the instant he passed the threshold of the shop wherein Mellet reigned an undisputed king, a damp, chill blanket tried to fasten down upon him, “No, don't!” he defied that spirit of awe and fear which tried to you drive away every deteemined resolu- tion from his mind, “Good morning, everybody!" In defiance to that ominous cheer- lessness, Tom Winters sang the greet- ing out with an exaggerated bravado. For one moment the startled clerks were almost shaken from their hahit- ual repression. But the next instant they glanced surreptitiously toward the corner where Mr. Mellet stood glaring upon the reckless intruder. “Oh; good morning, Mr. Mellet.” And then, because he feared to wait and see whether there would be a re- ply to that greeting, Tom Winters threw his hat npon a shelf under the counter and broke forth into “The Bonnie, Bonnie, Ba-anks of—Loch Lo- mond.” CUSTOMER entered. With a bound Tom cleared the space between them. “Yes, sir?” “I want to sce a sports shirt. Got anything new?” “Sports shirt,” repeated Tom. “Oh, yes! Just step this way. Here are some”’—hauling forth a box with one deft movement—“that are marked specially this week. Five dollars, Rerular nine-dollar values. They wont be duplicated, either. Fine, sturdy, washable silk. Stands laun- dering. Quiet patterns. You'll take three? Yes, sir. Have you seen our new ties? We have a decided reduc- tion on knitted models.” For half an hour Tom Winters kept up an enthusiastic flow of talk. At the end of this time he rapidly added the costs of the different items and sang out: “Wifty dollars straight. sir. Take it now or have the package sent?” The morning wore on, Three more large sales were recorded, the mysti- fication of the clerks growing with each one. Then Tom Winters went out to lunch and did a thing he hadn't done in four years, “That you, Roses?” he asked as the operator switched him on and he heard his wife’s soft answer. There was a little gasp, quickly stifled, that told him only too pointedly how he had surprised her. “Happy?” “Why—yes.” “What you been doing?” “Oh, cleaning, and dusting, and— oh, yes! Tom, I've been practising that song we heard. Coming home early?” “Seven to the dot! Goodby. Keep smiling, Roses!” That afternoon Mellet was called away to a conference with Burr. And a customer came in who asked for a pure linen shirt. “Linen?” reneated Tom. “Linen is what ° said. haven't you got it?” Tom's mind took a lightning leap to the stock in the back room. Two years “But"—~— Have you or before he had himself stored away linens and cambrics. “We have, sir. Will you wait, please, while I go to our reserve stock?” Tom brought forth the linens. The ‘styles were plain and conservative and the price tags still bore the old figures. “H-m,” grunted the customer, “That’s what I want. I'll take six.” When he left the store, Tom Win- ters stood and stared at him for the barest fraction of a second. Then he dashed into the inner stock-room and returned laden with boxes. From these he selected a few plain models, placed them in the window, and sct- tiled down to hand-letter a sign: Very Special Offer For Ta-Day A Limited Number of REAL LINEN SHIRTS at $8.95 The Metropolitan Men's Haberdash- ery Shops didn’t believe in littering SENET oS Tee apa ‘ P A e a see + Renew ope inte ama? iehairam ap Sain tee 3 weresy sese5eteee: ie bi ee et i a alieggabeeskae ty eo staceemen esepe eee eee eee Pye aes ay,