The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1918-06-21


per Syndicate.)
"Will you please get off the wire?"
The voice, though young and feminine,
was not entirely pleasant.
Il believe l took my receiver off
first" came back good-naturedly. 81
am trying to get the janitor. Are you
the janitor's wife?"
How ridiculous Where Is the ele-
vator boy to answer the phone?
want the janitor"
laugh came back through the
telephone. Everybody wants the JAM
tor. The last heard he had gone
out to try and buy soft coal l dare
say you're in the same boat that
am-frozen to death in your apart
ment. You know it won't do any good
to kick, but, like me, nothing else will
keep you warm"
There was no answer. Freda Til
sons receiver slammed back on the
hook that held it, and if she had been
inclined to talk to herself in her little
apartment she might have muttered
something about an impertinent
creature who dared to talk to girl
when he did not know her, and that
she hadn't the most remote idea who
1t was. That would have been a fib,
however, for she really did know that
1t was the young man who dwelt in
bachelor state in the somewhat more
spacious and luxurious apartment in
front Of her own, the greater luxury
and higher rent of his apartment be-
ing due to the fact that while he
managed to draw to himself weekly
check for SIS for writing "thrillers' for
popular weekly, she pounded type
writer somewhere In the "downtOwn"
district to the tune of sixty "a month.
To her. having an apartment of her
own, with little place she could call
home, was luxury that she had
earned by much economy in the way
OF amusement and pretty clothes.
His living there was put down to his
New England origin, for Victor Paige
was more of a miser than spend
thrift, and he would rather dine alone
on the simple fare that his visiting col
ored housekeeper made for him than
to spend many ducats in alluring res
taurants. Now 1t happened that the
typewriter that Freda Tilson pounded
was located in the very office whittier
Victor Paige occasionally strolled to
deliver his manuscript, and mayhap
chin with the editor. Perhaps she felt
a secret grievance, because, though
she had noticed the coincidence that
he frequented her office and also abode
under the same roof, he had sought
no excuse to speak to her as they
passed in the halls going home or VEN
turing forth. 1t does seem strange
that Victor never sought the excuse,
for Freda would have been good to
speak to. And there was nothing re-
Polling in her round blue eyes. But
then, Victor came from New England.
AS Freda performed the task of
busting and Strengthening up her little
apartment, clad to the chin in
sweater and wearing gloves on her
hands as she worked, she listened in
tently for ring at her doorbell that
would mean that the letter she was
waiting for had come. When all
chance Of the delivery was over she
descended to the entrance to make
sure that the boy In attendance there
had not failed to deliver 1t to her.
Strange that Victor Paige should
have gone forth at the same time. He
waited while she made her complaint.
"In the first place." she said, "it Is
perfectly ridiculous that on the one
day in the week when we have to be
home. and when 1t would really seem
that apartments and houses ought to
have enough coal to make them COM
Portable, we should be made to suffer
In this way. How am ever going to
write on my typewriter, with hands
stiff from cold, Is more than can tell.
1t seems most extraordinary that my
did not come by the mail
this morning. My office is closed, and
It is absolutely necessary for me to
typewrite some revised manuscript |
that the editor was sending by special
delivery. Are you quite sure nothing
has come for me-"
The dusky skinned attendant nodded
in the negative.
"And is there no hope Of any heat?'
Again a negative nod.
"Well, then, the only thing for me
to do is to go and get some oil. Thank
goodness, bought stove"
Now it was victor's inning. Having |
heard Freda's plant and the unsatis-
factory replies, he did not mention the
frigid atmosphere that prevailed In his
apartment as well as In hers.
IT say, Obadiah-beg pardon, l for
got your name was Hannibal--you
haven't seen anything Of stray mes
senger boy with a typewriter, have
you? OF course you haven't. But,
you see, the place I usually dictate my
copy is closed. and I was going to
pound II out for myself today, so l
sent for typewriter. But guess they
had too many orders before mine. Well
II there's no hope for heat I'll have to
burn OIL"
Acd no raf,troed IN his rooms call