Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-10-29

D. n.
Around the City.
Tho artist in human nature who likes
TO get impressions from life would have
found a model in every man who rode
home in an Avenue car Tnui sday even
ing.
Each man gripped a pink extra" His
eyes were fairly glued TO a headline
that fared it's black length across the
top of the sheet. The very slant of his
hat was expressive of triumph or de-
feat. And on his face was the slough
of despondency or the jamboree OF
jubilation, according to his feelings. as
he imbibed that headline:
Athletics again champions. 49,.
And If the human nature artist had
been around to capture the composite
expression he would probably nave
labeled il
THE Betting Face
A human sea, of men only, surged
around The Star building. And az
high-up bulletin board changed it's cleo
trio numbers the roars Of sound from
pavement to asphalt and to pavement
again would have outcrashed any
comber that Atlantic City can roll I'M
DER her piers-in season or out.
Into this maelstrom drifted plain,
abor under the dclusion that something
was happening. for the woman sa.l
to the man:
What's the trouble. pa?"
And pa-poor. benighted pa-answered:
Il dunno, honey, but somethin' pears
to be wrong
Which seems to hint that the cave
man is still in our midst. And the cave
mans wife. -
A woman with a good. honest. red face
n1o
hundreds of people something 10 grin
and gable at the other afternoon. Sne
had reached a corner In tAe sHopp,is
section when some mental caicuiauoh
made her stop suddenly and look INTO her
handbag.
Something must have gone wrong with
her finances, for the ransacking brought
TO the spring water eyes the look .hdl
comes from trying to think up Wne.e
the money went. Then she diVed INTO
the bag again and rummaged tnroush Tvs
inside her face puckering into an end
less chain of wrinkles as she searcheo.
Then. ladies all, she pumped herself
down on the curbstOne and emptled the
bags contents into her black serge lap.
For her the passing crowd had no ex-
istence She was alone with her Tears.
And her handbag.
There were wisps of packages ana
spilled-out display of tape. spool thread.
shoe laces and safety pins. There was
one of those knitted yarn clowns .that
are mistakenly supposed TO strike GYM
balls when pulled with string. and an
unwrapped parcel that disclosed the great
American mystery known as currant
buns And there was-but that's enough
of that
The price of each of these purchases
did the woman count up by humping
her fingers on her knee. but her anxiety
showed no let-up until. with fash of
belated memory, she pushed her hand
under her jacket and brought out and
unwrapped a pin with glass set that
was better than emerald because II was
twice az green and three times as large
as the one that belongs-or did belong
TO that dear Abdul Hamid who was, and
probably cost 10 cents. The emerald, y
understand.
The money problem was solved: the
wrinkles slid out Of the honest. red face.
and Mrs Richard was herself again. In
about two seconds the notion department
was stuffed back into the bag. and IN
the historic space OF time known outside
of the calendar as two shakes OF ram
tail she had scrambled TO he, rect ana
was on her way rejoicing.
And she'll never give her spectacular
stunt a second thought-unless some one
should ask how she got all that dust on
the back of her dress.
\ woman was reading at desk.
II was big fiat desk with teleSra pin
KEYS on the other side. And the big
desk lay alongside two big. big win
dows that looked down on the Avenue
seven stories below.
The woman was deep in her book
that the telegranher might have been
in Halifax for all she heard the SIMPLY
where Miss Peck had reached the top OF
the highest mountain in South America:
in fancy she was there herself Miss
Peck was ahead. OF course, but the
"a .fN.Aff
between two Swiss guides. with descrip-
tive crevasses and ice-packed photo
graphs everywhere except on the very
topmost top. where she and Miss Peck
balanced themselves to watch the clouds
Wen, if she isn't pretending 70
work,
The interruption Jared the woman off
the top OF Mount Huascaron plump into
her clair at the desk. Then she took
notice.
The telegraph keys We're jabberins az
If all the news in creation had suddenly
gone stark mad. The te1egrapher pounded
ragtime accomr ailments. and dozen
men more or less--nake Ii more: il
sounds sociabler-were hanging around
the desk, walking restlessly about IL. or
We're damned on the broad sill OF one OF
tire windows, staring down at something
below.
Every half second or so the news es-
caped from the gone-nad wires into the
street and caused an explosion OF shouts
that testified that the something below
was a crowd-with lungs.
Anything going on-unusual? asked
the woman.
Dersve laughter was her only answer.
until one charitably disposed youth en-
lightened her with the plying indulgence
one reserves for gbbering idiots
.Oh. no. Just the last game OF the
" orld's series, with the returns coming
i'll
OF course. the woman knew it as we'll
as he did. only she had forgotten. Also.
of course, base ball is all right. once you
get the kink OF IL. but, say
What's winning q base ball pennon TO
a mountain that no man has
ever been able to scale? Why. Miss Peck
but that's enough OF that
The woman took a self-sacrificing turn
and retired from the field. The click
ing and pounding and shouting and hur-
"a hing kept on. and on, until all at once.
the wire threw at, and before you
could say Jack Robinson" The Stars