The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1906-09-20
~ THE r.
PINK KIMONO
By ROLA FORESTER
Copyright, 1903, by Ruby Douglas
By lola FORESTER

uicks letters lay on top of 1t, neatly,
as the hall boy had placed them, also
lis 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
deep chair.
There was an hour before the crowd
would arrive. Everything was ready.
Tile spread would be sent up at $50
sharp. He hoped Stanton would be
able to get away. He liked Stanton.
The boy needed a good friendly grip
lust 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 u bit handy with
1t 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 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 Warwick's hill up in Hills
boro, n. II. 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 unlmportant. 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,
silken thing He stood up and shook
1t out to lis full length. 1t reached to
the floor. 1t was not bath robe. 1t
could not possibly be smoking jacket.
II was a 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 smllingly. interroga-
lively looked about the room and spied
the pink silk thing.
Rex" he said reproachfully; why,
Rex%
at was left here by mistake" said
Warwick hastily. THE hall boy did
It. What is til"
Billy lifted it by the shoulders aud
beamed with the appreciative eye Of a
eonnoisseur.
IT'S 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 1t
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 IL. but
he didn't want to see that particular
what had Billy called lt2-klmono?-
handled and laughed about and specu.
lated over. Somewhere there must be
the girl who wanted that kimono. He
hoped she was a brunette. Pink was
best for brunettes. Not too much Of a
brunette, perhaps with blue eyes, OF
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 rummagng for
dishes and knives and forks. Big DE
Seau was up on the diyan with Its red
Turkish cover draped picturesquely
about him, recitIng some original
poetry.
Rex, don't you own decent table
cloth, you beggar1" called Yates.
Warwick smoked without replying.
Through the haze he saw the brunette
girl with the pink klmono about her
smiling delclously like a geisha-no he
didn't want her TO be geisha-smiling,
well, just as n 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