The Press., 1907-03-06
e THE e
PINK KIMONO
By IZOLA FORESTER
Copyright. 1906, by Ruby Douglas

It lay OIL the massive settee in the
hall, an innocent looking parcel, fat
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
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 a good friendly grip
lust now. He knew himself what 1t
was to be in New York 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 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 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. 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.
1t was a pink, delicate, shimmering,
silken thing. He stood up and shook
it out to it's full length. 1t reached to
the floor. 1t was not bath robe. 1t
could not possibly be a smoking jacket.
1t 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 smilingly, interroga-
lively looked about the room and spied
the pink silk thing.
"Rex," he said reproachfully; "why,
Rexw
'It was left here by mistake" said
| Warwick hastily. 1.-THE hall boy did
it. What is it?'
Billy lifted it by the shoulders and
beamed with the appreciative eye Of a
connoisseur.
'It's a 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 ii
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 1t, 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 q
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 rummaging fol
dishes and knives and forks. Big De
Veau was up on the divan with it's RED
Turkish cover draped picturesquely
about him, reciting some original
| poetry.
"Rex, don't you own a decent table
cloth, you beggar?" called Yates.
Warwick smoked without replying
Through the haze he saw the brunette
girl with the pink kimono about hel
smiling deliciously like a geisha-no, he
didn't want her to be geisha-smiling
we'll, just as a girl should smile wher
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. II didn't know yoJ
had a place like this. Beats hotels
doesn't it? What do you call it?"
''Studio apartment" said Warwick
lazily. "Half den, half home, not con
fined to bachelors. l like it. When 6
fellows had home, it always sticks tt
him a bit There's a Jap comes in anG
cleans up for me, and if want meal
can have it,"
I'll am going to housekeeping too.
began Stanton awkwardly.
Honeymoon" Warwick's eyes light
ed with amusement He had not
dreamed the boy had gone so far.
''No, not as bad as that" Stanton
hesitated, glancing at the joyous, riot
GUS crowd about the piano. It's my
sister. Mothers sent her on to take
care of me until she can come herself
guess they didn't get very good
accounts of their little boy IN Manhat
tan. But / wrote home and told them
about you and what sort of chap