The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1918-03-14

Pink Tights and Ginghams
4 Business Adventure of Emma McChesney

Blu EDNA FERBER
Author of "Dawn O'EIao. - "Bueed Side Down. " etc.
X A. Stokes Company

thinkin' just one second before you
come out here?"
mo; what?"
Il was thinkin' what cinch It would
be to just push aside that canvas thing
there by the steps and try what the
newspaper accounts call jumping into
the night Say, if I'd had on my other
lawnjerie I'll bet I'd have done 1t"
Into Emma McChesney's understand
ing heart there swept wave Of pity.
But she answered lightly: "Is that
supposed to be funny?"
The plump blonde yawned at de-
Ponds on your funny bone. Mines got
blunted I'm the lady that the Irish
comedy guy elaps in the face with a
bunch of lettuce. Say, there's some
thing about you that makes a person
get gabby and tell things. You'd make
swell clairvoyant"
Beneath the comedy of the bleached
hair, and the faced face, and the
bizarre wrapper; behind the coarse
ness and vulgarity and ignorance,
Emma McChesney's keen mental eye
saw something decent and clean and
beautiful. And something pitiable,
and something tragic
II guess you'd better come in and
get some Sleep said Emma McChes-
ney; and somehow found her hand
resting on the woman's shoulder. So
they stood, on the swaying, jolting
platform. Blanche LeHaye, of the Sam
Levin Crackerjack Bellies, looked
down, askance, at the hand on her
shoulder, as at some strange and in
teresting object.
"Ten years ago" she said, that
would have started me telling the
story of my life, with all the tremolo
stops on, and the orchestra in tears.
Now it onlY makes me mad"
Emma MeChcsaoy's hand seemed to
snatch itself away from the woman's
shoulder.
you can't treat me with your life's
history. I'm going in"
wait a minute. Don't go away
sore, kid. On the square, / guess |
liked the feel of your hand on my
arm, like that. Say I've done the
same thing myself to a strange dog
that looked up at me, pitiful You
know, the way you reach down, and
pat m on the head, and say, Nice dog
gle, nice do3gie, old fellow even if it
is street cur, with a chawed ear and
no tail. They growl and show their
teeth, but they like it. A woman
Lordy! There comes the brakeman.
Let's beat it. Amt we the nervy old
hens!"
The female of the species as she is
found in sleeping car dressing-rooms
had taught Emma McChesney to rise
betimes that she might avoid contact
with certain frowsy, shapeless beings
armed with bottles of milky liquids,
and boxes of rosy pastes, and pencils
that made arched and inky line; be-
ings redolent of bitter almond, and vio-
let toilet water; beings in doubtful cor
sets and green silk petticoats perfect
as to accordion-plaited flounce, but
showing Sits and TAFT s farther up;
beings jealousy g: riding their ten
inches of mirror space and consenting
to move for no one; ladies' who had
come all the way from Texas and who
insisted on telling about it, despite a
mouthful of hairpins; doubtful sisters
who called one dearie and required to
be hooked up; distracted mothers with
three small children who wiped their
hands on your shirt waist.
So it was that Emma McChesney,
hated and yelled by 5:45, saw the cur
tains of the berth opposite rent asun-
der to disclose the rumpled, shapeless
figure of Miss Blanche LeHaye. The
queen of burlesque bore in her arms a
conglomerate mass of shoes, corset,
purple skirt, bag and green-plumed
hat. She paused to stare at Emma Nc
Chesneys trim, cool preparedness.
you must have started to dress as
soon's you come in last night. never
slep' wink till just about half hour
ago. l bet | amt got more than eleven
minutes to dress in. Amt this a
scorcher!"
When the train stopped at North
Bend, Emma McChesney, on her way
out, collided with vision in a pongee
buster, rose-colored chiffon veil, cham
OILS gloves, and plumed hat. Miss
Blanche LeHaye had made the most of
her eleven minutes. Her baggage at
tended to, Emma McChesney climbed
into hotel bus. 1t bore no other pas
sengers. From her corner in the vehicle
she could see the queen of burlesque
standing in the center of the depot
platform, surrounded by her company.
1t was a tawdry, miserable, almost
tragic group, the men understood, be-
diamonded, their skulls oddly shaped
their clothes a satire on the fashions
for men, their chins unshaven, their
loose lips curved contentedly over Gig.
arettes; the women dreadfully unreal
with the pitiless light of the early
morning sun glazing down on their be-
dizened faces, their spotted, garish
cloths, their rundown heels, their
vivid wells, their matted hair. They
were quarreling among themselves
and fame of hate for the moment
lighted up those dull, stupid, vicious
faces. Blanche LeHaye appeared tc
: be the center about which the strife
waged, for suddenly she flung through
the shrill group and walked swiftly
over to the bus and climbed into II
heavily. One of the women turned