Evening star., 1919-04-27
A STORY BY EDNA FERBER

Something pleasant. Then he remem-
bered. and smiled.
Tyler had no pal. His years of COM
panionship with his mother had bred
in him a sort of shyness. a difidence.
He heard the other boys making plans
for shore leave. They all scorned
Waukegan, which was the first siz-
able town beyond the station. Chicago
was their goal. They were like
horde of playhungry devils after
their confinement. Six weeks of
stored-up energy made them restive
as colts.
Coin to Chicago, kid?" Moran ask
ed him. carelessly. 1t was Saturday
morning.
Yes. Are yeu?" eagerly.
KIN duck swim?"
AT the Y. NJ. c. A. they had given
him tickets ITO various free amuse-
ments and entertainments. They told
him about free canteens, and about
other places where you could get a
good meal cheap. One of the tickets
was for a dance. Tyler knew nothing
of dancing. This dance was to be
given at some. kind wofnan's club on
Michigan boulevard Tyler read the
card. glumly. A dance meant girls.
He knew that Why hadn't he learned
to dance?
Tyler walked down to the station
and waited for the train that would
bring him to Chicago at about l
o'clock. The other boys, in little
groups or in pairs. were smoking
and talking Tyler wanted to join
them. but he did not. They seemed
so sufficient unto themselves. with
their plans, and their glib knowl-
edge of places, and amusements, and
girls.
Tyler found himself in the same
car with Moran. He edged over to a
seat near him. watching him narrow
ly. Moran was not mingling with
the other boys. He kept aloof, his
sea-blue eyes gazing out at the fiat
Illinois prairie. All about him swept
and eddied the currents and counter
currents of talk-talk of dances
and canteen suppers and entertain
ments.
Tyler's glance encountered Moran,s,
eS"N ASotGN thSlC' OWL II CuI leu thO
lrishman's broad upper lip. Navy!
This amt no navy no more. Phono-
graphs, an church suppers, an pool
an dances! It's enough t. turn \
fella's stomck. Lot of Sunday school
kids don't know a sail from a table
cloth when they see it,"
Tyler, who but moment before
had been. envying them their IA
miliarity with these very things now
nodded and smiled understandingly
at Moran. That's right" he said.
Moran regarded him a moment Curl
ously. Then he resumed his staring
out of the window. You would never
have guessed that i'm that bullet head
there was bewilderment and resent
ment almost equaling Tyler's, but for
much different reason. Gunner
Moran was of the old navy-the navy
that had been despised and spat
upon. In those days his uniform
alone had barred him from decent
theaters, decent halls, decent dances,
contact with decent people. They
had forced him to knowledge of
the bvrlesque houses. the cheap the
aters, the shooting galleries. the sa-
looms, the dives. And now, bewilder-
ingly, the public had right about
faced. 1t opened its door to him. 1t
closed its saloons to him. 1t sought
him out.
When the train drew in at the great
Northwestern station shed he was
down the steps and up the long plat
form before the wheels had ceased
revolving.
Tyler came down the steps slowly.
Blue uniforms were streaming past
him--a food of them. The great
train shed awed him. The vast col
umned waiting room. the hurrying
people, the uniformed guards gave
him a feeling of personal unimpor-
tance. He feft very negligible. and
useless, and alone. He stood, a rather
dazed blue figure, in the vastness OF
that shining place. A voice-the soft,
cadenced voice of the negrO-ad-
dressed him.
Lookin' fo' de sailors clubrooms"
Tyler turned. A toothy. middle
aged, kindly negro in a uniforom and
red cap. Tyler smiled friendly.
Chpxl hA