Evening star., 1917-10-07

insists on daily exercise for my voca1
cords. I tried plain ho1lering at frst.
but next door mistook 1t for 8. O. 8.
call and came in armed for burglars.
To save further connections I've got to
have an excuse SO that all the folks
around can say is that there's no moro
l know already"
Which shows that there is one woman
in this town. anyhow. who can hear
herself as others hear her.
She was a survival Of the epoch when
a man could safely die in the assurance
that his widow would wear bombazine
and crinkly Grape. And on her face
was the nervous exhilaratfon Of one
who only gets downtown once In SO
often. and therefore hungers to SEQ all
that is going on-and more.
Fate was in accommodating mood,
and the widery one, standing on a curb,
was reveltng in the excitement of
something which she couldn't make
out, except that 1t was a crowd around
"A street car-and which she yearned to
join, only she dasn't. because of auto
mobiles sizzling every which way at
once. So she asked a man.
The man said he didn't know-same
old trouble, he guessed.
This was thrilling, but indefinite; SO
, the widery watcher asked another man,
who was crossing the asphalt from the
scene of action.
make out was that there had been an
explosion of some sort Any disaster
was liable to happen in these days,
with spies shopping around
This was worse and more of 1t. SO
the woman, scared to death and per.
fectly happy, kept on waiting and look
ing until she caught sight of a news
boy, who had squirmed out of the jam
and was hopping curbward like a kan
| CARGO She had found her bureau of
informa tfon.
She wanted to know II spies had done
it. and what it was. and IL anybody was
killed. And the boy grinned contempt.
Nothing but gas leak in a man.
hole. An accidental spark set 1t afire-
that's all"
We'll, I'm glad it wasn't true about
them trying to bomb up the car full Of
people who wern't harming anybody"
"Betcher I'm not, then. If a car had
blown up I'd be selling extras"
Which shows UP the wisdom OF the
man who got ahead with his maxim
that everything in this WDrld depends
on the point of view.
A small woman in black walking
alone in the dusk.
Quiet, oldish figures are as multi
tudinous as pins in this world, and hers
would not have been worth the second
glance, except for the whisper Of your
companion.
That's the woman who only comes
out in the night"
The penwiperish little shape shows
no outward rebellion to the god of
things they are, which makes you
know that the hurt is all the worse
| inside where her soul lives-We get
such human satisfaction out of q
pose
And as you look backward while she
fancy gallops off at a tangent that
You understand. of course, why those
humbuggy lady oracles swathed their
faces from the honest sunshine and
you know as well as the next what
made the history man wear his iron
mask, and the exact reason the well
known vampire of the movie had for
crunching hearts-and bone drying
books under layers of glamourous
Why SO old and uneventful a body
should hide her withery self from the
wholesome day gets you-unless the
answer might be that she was not al
ways old, and that youth is never un-
eventful--
And while you are worrying yourself
the companion knocks your theories
from under:
''rhe poor thing has weak eyes and
can't stand the light"
Which shows what a circus-ridine
imagination will do.
NANNIE IANCASrEp