The Monmouth inquirer., 1906-09-27
~ THE -
PINK KIMONO
By IZoLA FORESTER
Copyright, 1906, by Ruby Douglas


sick's letters lay on top of it neatly,
his weekly paper from home.
Warwick glanced at the letters,
again at the clock, tossed off his hat
coat and gloves and carried the whole
lot. parcel, letters and paper, into the
comfortable study and dropped into a
4 deep chair.
4 There was an hour before the crowd
would arrive. Everything was ready.
The spread would be sent up at $50
sharp. He hoped Stanton would be
able to get away. He liked Stanton.
i The boy needed a good friendly grip
just now. He knew himself what it
was to be in New York a stranger.
Money could not give one the pass
word that admitted one to the inside OF
things, the getting next to the itness
of all,", as Stanton said And If the
right path did not open, and one hap
pened to be lonely, there were others
wide and welcoming Warwick knew.
The boy was young and clever. The
only thing that allied him was too
much money, and the confidence he
had therein. He was a bit handy with
it all-the whirl and the swing and the
chance for big success. Warwick had
kept an eye on him for weeks, measur-
! ing and judging him, and now he was
satisfied All the boy needed was d.
rection and cool hand checking him
now and then, and he would win out.
Warwick opened the weekly paper
from home and smiled to himself at
the familiar heading. the Weekly Wis
itor. Ever since he could remember
the Weekly Visitor had visited reg
ularly at the quiet, big gray house that
crowned Warwick's hill, up in Hills
boro, N. H. And Stanton was from
the country, too, some place out west.
out in Nebraska He wondered if he
had a weekly paper, too, to keep him
in touch with the old world, and the
ethics and standards of something be-
sides New York.
The letters were unimportant. He
took up the parcel and slipped off the
cord. Laundry probably. He had not
ordered anything.
The paper fell to the floor and he
! sat staring at the thing in his hands.
It was a pink, delicate, shimmering,
silken thing. He stood up and shook
it out to its full length. 1t reached to
the floor 1t was not bath robe. 1t
could not possibly be a smoking jacket.
J 1t was woman's garment, unnis-
takably.
The texture was the softest Japa-
nese Grape, the silk interviewer around
the sleeves and neck in a border of
golden butterflies. There was no mark
on it nor on the paper. Warwick
looked carefully.
The door bell buzzed imperatively,
once, twice and long one. That was
Billy Trainors ring. Warwick hest
tated, cast the pink silk thing behind
him on the chair and opened the door.
Billy stepped in smilingly, interroga-
lively looked about the room and spied
the pink silk thing.
Rex" he said reproachfully; why,
Rexw
ut was left here by mistake" said
Warwick hastily 1.-THE hail boy did
it. What is it?''
/. Billy lifted it by the shoulders and
beamed with the appreciative eye of
connoisseur.
TITS kimono, the real imported ar
ticle. No bargain sale. Who's the
lucky LADY,"
The door bell buzzed again. War
wick took the kimono with deliberate
forethought, went to the wardrobe in
his dressing room and concealed it
therein
Its Stanton Billy announced, land
the rest
Warwick played the host with more
inner discomfort than ever before in
his life. 1t was not the mere fact of
the mistake that troubled him, nor that
he minded the boys knowing of it. but
he didn't want to see that particular
what had Billy called it?-kimono?-
handled and laughed about and specu-
lated over Somewhere there must be
the girl who wanted that kimono. He
hoped she was brunette Pink was
best for brunettes. Not too much of a
brunette. perhaps with blue eyes, or
gray-yes, gray-a gray eye or so.
Billy was pushing back the chairs
and taborets for the spread Stan
ton was singing at the piano Out in
The kitchenette Yates and Rogers and
the Ianforths were rummaging for
dishes~and knives and forks Big De
Veau was up on tire divan with its red
Turkish cover draped picturesqueiy
about him, reciting some original
poetry.
REX, don't you own a decent table
cloth, you beggarY called Yates
Warwick smoked without replying.
Through the haze he saw the brunette
girl with the pink kimono about her
smiling deliciously like a geisha-no he
didn't want her to be geisha-smlling,
well, just as a girl should smile when
she had the right one to smile at
!. Stanton left the piano and came over
Say, you're prince to get me here
: tonight" he said. Il didn't know you
had place like this Beats hotels,
f-oesn't it? What do you call it?"
Studio apartment" said Warwick.