Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1906-11-29
e THE e
PINK KIMONO
BY lola FORESTER
Copyright, 1906, by Ruby Douglas

1t lay on the massive settee in the
hall, an innocent looking parcel, fiat
and somewhat square. Three of War
wick's letters lay on top of it, neatly.
as the hall boy had placed them also
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
deep chair.
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
The boy needed good friendly grip
just now. He knew himself what 1t
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
right path did not open. and one hap
pcaed to be lonely, there We're 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 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 di-
rection and a 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 Warwici's hill, up in Hills
boro, n. III. And Stanton was from
the country, too, some place out west,
out in Nebraska. He wondered if he
had Il 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 We're 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.
1t was pink, delicate, shimmering,
silllen 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 smoking jacket.
1t was woman's garment. unmis-
takably.
The texture was the softest Japa-
nese Grape, the silk interviewer around
the sleeves and neck in 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 Trainor's 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,
Rex"
1T was left here by mistake" said
Warwick hastily. THE hall boy did
it. What is it?"
Billy lifted it by the shoulders and
beamed with the appreciative eye of IL
connoisseur
Its Il 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
lie 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 u
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 Danforths were rummaging for
dishes and knives and forks. Big De
Neau was up on the divap with its red
Turkish cover draped picturesquely
about him, recitng some original
| poetry.
REX, don't you own decent table
cloth, you beggar?" called Yates.
Warwick smoked without replying.
Through the haze he saw the brunette
| girl with the pink kimono about her