The citizen., 1918-02-28
Gregory
Fuller, Model
n
By Osborn Jones
By Osborn Jones

the way from the six-vear lassie, who
sat bolt upright. with her chubby bare
legs crossed tailor fashion under her,
as she laboriously piled the stitches of
wash cloth with her rosy fingers,
down. or rather up. TO Mrs. Van der
Hayden, who looked as we who have
never seen a duchess at close range
imagine duchesses Of three-scOre and
more all do look-portly and naughty
and serene. She was knitting an avi-
ator's helmet. All in all. there were
twenty-four needles clicking, and, save
when some one stopped TO count stitch
es, there were half as many tongues
gently wagging.
No wonder, then, that the two un-
attached males whom unkind fate had
condemned to abide in the one board
ing house in town preferred to smoke
their pipes and read their papers on
the wooden settle down by the gate
of the old house. Except for the fact
that they were doomed to share the
same bench in this ostracism, there
was little in common between Gregory
Fuller and the other young man, who
sought to entertain and impress Greg
ory with his social conquests in his
home town.
Still, when the young man went for
weekend TO that home town, pre-
sumably TO score few more triumphs,
Gregory felt doubly oppressed in his
ostracism; and without knowing Just
how things stood between Gregory and
Margery Drake-the little twenty-year-
old school teacher that sat up there In
the third chair from Mrs. Van der Hay
den and knitted sleeveless sweaters
you might have wondered why he did
not seek some other place to spend his
Saturday afternoon than down there
on the hard wooden bench by the fence,
with only a magazine and a pipe TO
console him. Down there at least he
was unobserved, or thought he was.
and he could be sure that Margery was
safe. He had little reason to feel
jealousy, for, except for his erstwhile
companion who had gone home for the
weekend, Gregory was about the only
eligible male in the community.
"Do you know. / think there must
be something wrong with these direc-
tions." It was the shrill treble of Mrs.
Jones-the angular blonde lady with
the bediamonded fingers who sat next
to Margery. II have followed them
faithfully-bound off thirty-two stitch
es for the head, knitted five ribs, and
then set on thirty-two stitches again,
and will you look at the size of the
neck?"
Margery beside her compared her
own nearly completed sweater with
her neighbor's. mine is just the same
size. took 1t for granted that the
rules We're right"
"But can't get II over my head at
ALL" exclaimed Mrs. Smith as she
seized Margery's sweater and tried TO
pull 1t over her blonde pompadour.
"Of course you can't" reproved the
duchess, pausing as she counted stitch
es-''twenty-three, twenty-four. twen-
ty-tve-with your hair done over a rat
Of course your head is larger than a
MANS"
"You don't suppose 1 do such a
thing" gasped Mrs. Smith. although I
will admit that my hair Is very thick
and that may take up more room. But
even If my hair Is full, don't you think
a mans ears are big and would take
the extra room in slipping 1t on? al
ways think mems ears are very big"
81 have noticed that Mr.. Smiths
are" suggested the duchess, still count
ing
'If we could only try the sweater
on a real man." sighed Mrs. Smith.
"Its too bad my husband is a travel
ing man. He's the only husband in the
house and he is away"
"But there are other ren," suggested
Mrs. Van der Hayden.
"Not Mr.. Fuller" gasped Margey.
'Please don't let's ask him." She had
seen mt least eight pairs Of eyes cast
in the direction Of the little wooden
bench and It's solitary occupant. II
was too late and useless to protest
for the portly Mrs. Van der Hayden
had risen and beckonlng with her large
angular hand, she called: "Young
man, Mr.. Fuller, will you step this
way" and then, feeling that her word
was law, she sank down into her chair
again; "seventy-eight, seventy-nine,
eighty" she counted on.
Gregory rose and came up the steps
10 the porch and, as the twenty-four
needles ceased 10 click and half as
many pairs OF feminine eyes were lev
Fled upon him, he felt the color rise In
his checks and under his collar.
"NOu are an average-sized young
nan, aren't you?" Queried the duchess
rs If she were asking "A new gardener |
whether he could cut the grass.
swell, then will you let these ladies |
ry their sweaters ON your
Then the fitting process began and I
he only consolation that came to Greg.
Try was the knowledge that Margery
vas blushlng confusedly and because
le knew that the first sweater that was
ried ON him was made by Margery's
air hands. O
"Yes, think his ears stick out bit
co." commented Mrs. Van der Hay.
len. "but then l suppose the average