Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1920-01-29

&sAssassssszss k Ii C G S and
FANNIE HURST eyes squeezed
~''---- tight against
nausea and rising misery.
Across the aisle a large party with
heavy gold chain spanning convex
waistcoat leaned to her with queer
chirring noise underneath his breath,
his eyes. well imbedded IN flesh, glow
ing across at her in quick appraisal.
"Some kid" be said between moist
Chirrups.
Washington avenue, just above Jet-
ferson, has seen better days. Its
brownstone fronts, even in ,bellicosc
times. when st. Louis showed pan,
talettcs beneath her hoops and traded
slaves on the courthouse steps, had
not the sagging stoops or the coplngS
sunk. Instead, there were starchly.
curtained windows and the coplugs OF
sandstones, even the granite pairs or
door lions scrubbed we'll into the Grey
ices of the carved names and, too, the
carriage step whitley secured Tor the
rcnoines and goipgs and doings and
dancings of the Papins and Chouteaus'
Garrisons and Chopins of those ueo-
onair pioneer days.
Then. because of the West End
movement, and because people are con
etantly prospering or falling oack' anu
the street car franchise cutting through
the seclusion and Il new generation
turning from brOwnstone to Whlte-
stone front age, Washington avenue,
Just above Jefferson evacuated anu
Slipped into decay. To Let began 10
stare from empty windows, doors sag
ged out of plumb, and the granite hons
darkened with humiliation and smoke
from the new Jefferson avenue hlns
Knalitv Shoe Factory. And finally, like
ghouls to the corpse of yesterday, the
rooming house invaded, the lodger Tor
the night laying a furtive head beneath
the high, Calcimined ceiling of prouder
days.
At 2595 Washington avenue, sinister
looking with its front door sagglng IN
like toothless mouth. its indoor shut
ters closed aud milk bottles and cans
of the add hot water and serve foods
of the lodger on the window -sills, Mrs;
Lucy Beasley, to whom life consisted
of two frayed ends which would not
meet, conducted a roonins house
light housekeeping.
You to whom light housekeeping Is
but card stuck in a murky window,
look to it we'll that you never know
more. 1t is the hearthstone and the
IdUllly DUdIu SOIG " cll4tiSAs ''AAN -
their stead tin can over gas Jet.
Women sick with the heaviness of
light housekeeping sometimes forget to
turn off that gas Men i'll such rooms
sit through the long hours of out Of
work workadays, ofttimes P aiming no
good. Children cry here, not knowing
why.
In her third story back, slit of q
room overlooking a segment of alley
and the roofs of the King huality Shoe
Factory. Annie Kineady, brushing out
her flood of hair, heard one such cry
beat against the thin walls of her room
and paused with her brush held away
from her and looking back at herself
in the square of wavy mirror.
Into the quiet of Sunday morning
slow clappered church bells rang
roundly. She stood there with her
head cooked to the cry, her hair flow
ing down and over her bare arms and
more than ever brilliant in the meager
room, with its cot still awry from her
rising, a table spread with her poor
odds and ends of toilet and bowl and
pitcher. Beside it a tin slop jar, and
beside that her empty telescope.
The cry, half cough, rose again
louder, and she tossed down the brush
and wound her hair in fts loose coil,
slid into her black dress, with her neck
rising Whitley out of it. squirming to
button it UP her back. Slipped out into
the dark hall with the medley of
breakfast smells oozing from every
where, and knocked at the door adjoin-
ing hers.
Come"
She did not turn the knob; placed
her lips to a crack instead.
81 don't want to come in, Mr.. Fod-
die. only to know if the baby
The door swung back upon her, re-
vealing Mr.. Foddie in a gray and we'll
frayed flannel house gown, corded in
at the waist, and a smile that lifted
the looped up corners of his mustaChe
we'll toward his eyes.
''Well, of all the high toned little
neighbors. Don't wanna come in -
''Me and Beasley are going over to
the Lefingwell Church this morning,
Mr.. Foddie, only hearing the baby Kind
OF coughing"
Wonder you wouldn't ask a poor
bld widower to 60 along
why, Mr., Foddie, you yourself
home sick from the store yesterday
end little Robbie
He struck himself resouudinglv upon
fhe chest and smOothed his hair, SO
smoothly pomaded across u thinning
epot and three shades darker than the
too brown muStachC.
"Never felt better in my life. -
'Beasley says that what you always
saw after one Of your heart spells, and
then right away start to overriding.
Never felt better in my life. Nc
for the store tomorrow, like Id never
been down.
''S'pose the fairs without a floor.
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