The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1918-08-31

off his slippers. If he was in the
least angry he concealed it beneath
his placid exterior.
u guess you're right, ma" he said.
| "A bunco-man had ought to bunk
more than I been bunkin' lately. I'm
goin' out an bunk awhile an give
you chance to smell that perfum-
cry"
Don't do nothin' dishonest just be-
cause 1 spoke my mind" said Mrs.
! Bunker.
| mo, ma, won't" said Mr.. Bunker
| I'll just look around for some clean,
honest graft"
Mr.. Bunker strol1ed toward a cor
ner on which he saw peg-post po-
liceman swinging his club. He walk
ed up to him, took off his hat and
wiped his forehead.
well, faint SO warm as twas yes
terday, officer" he said in greeting.
Warm enough" said the officer.
swell, faint cold" said Mr.. Bun
ker. Maybe you don't know who I
am, officer. I take It kindly to be
known to all the folks roundabout
where / am. 1 was that way out to
I Oroduna, Iowa, where me and ma
come from. Yep, here's one of my
cards. Had 'em printed by that lit
! tie Teller round the corner that runs
the print-shop. J. Bunker. Buneo-
steerer. Confidence work done at all
hours That's me-"
The policeman laughed.
"Sayl" he said, this is the best
show I ever did run against I got to
show this to Joe; it'll tickle Joe. Hes
sprung that Chicken Inspector, Num-
Der az badge on me, and lot of
things. We're always springin' Jokes
on each other like that. Where'd you
get these cards."
"I had 'ern printed, like said" said
Mr.. Bunker, beaming.
"Iemne have a half a dozen," said
the officer. II can have q lot of fun
with 'em"
Mr.. Bunker ob1iging1y handed half a
dozen of the cards to the officer.
''What l spoke to you for just now"
he said, was to ask you if you knowed
of anything bunco-rnan could turn his
hand to. Sal1y-she's my wife-got
sort of pestered seein' me sit around
50 much and limited I'd ought to go
| out and bunk somebody. I'm looldn'
for some con- game to work-
| "Well, believe mel" said tho officer,
IF you're looking for q con game, you
cali war babies'i That's where folks
are going to get stung the worst they
lever got stung, or I miss my guess
He laughed; d.,
Stocks of companies that are sellin.
Tor supposed to sell ammunition and
food and things to the fighters over on
Ithe-other side" said the policeman.
That's what they call them down in
Wall Street3'war babies"
Mr.. Bunker's little blue eyes twinkled;
4. Ill, Ia he
cheerfully. "Wel1, I'm much obliged.
Have a cherootf"
"Ah, gwan" laughed the policeman,
after taking one look at Mr.. Bunker
Ipasteboard box of Fumigatos. You're
one of these here regular joker fellers,
amt you?"
At the corner, Mr.. Bunker took the
bus. It was q warm day, and he was
still uncertain how "war babies" could
be used to his advantage, and the top
of the bus looked invitingly cool. He
climbed the narrow seni-spira1 stair
way and dropped into seat with a
grunt of satisfaction. In front Of him
were two women of evident social posi-
lion, II one might Judge by their
clothes. One now leaned toward the
other and spoke.
what an awful musk that woman
ahead of US usesi" she said. Really,
Mrs. catti, must change my seat; I
cannot stand itp
She looked around. There was no
vacant seat except the one beside Mr..
Bunker.
should be a law against using such
raucous odors In public. I think your
husband deserves the greatest praise
for raising our standard of taste in
perfumes, my dear"
"He Is vairy arteestic," said Mrs.
CATH with satisfaction "He is true
, arteest."
"Oh, anybody could tefl that just by
looking at his new shop" said Mrs.
Gatti's friend Such dear piacei II
, is a gem, a jewel-boxl And he seems
to be doing so well therel'
"Magneeficently," said Mrs. Catti.
Now / hope he moves about no more
Always he has moved from place to
place. 'Paoli.' I say, don't The swell
: trade don't like Get nice shop and
So now he lease for twenty years"
The bus rolled downtown and the
ladies talked and talked, as ladies will
In the middle of a block in the Thir-
ties, Mrs. Gatti's friend leaned over
. the rail and looked at the new shop
of Paoli GATH So did Mr.. Bunker
, He saw a perfect jewel-box, as Mrs
Gatti's friend had said. The windows
! were framed in chased gold, f1atted In
| delicate design of Italian Renais-
sance, and in them were yards and
! yards of deep green velvet, neatly
: draped Each window was like q
messy grotto, and in each window
stood one single bottle of Paoli Gatti's
Viola di Riviera, its delicate violet
It was richness and simplicity brought
to the highest pitch in window-dress-
| ing. 1t looked exclusive and expensive
and it was. The women who entered
, and left the shop were the best gown
, ed women on the Avenue.
/ What attracted Mr. Bunker's atten-
ton most, however, was sign Oh
, nlacard on one of the Mia sfers Of The