Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1921-09-15
Peterman's Misft
Parlors
By FREDERICK CLARKE
(9. 1871. Western Newspaper union.)

John Brett was In the seventh
heaven OF happiness on Saturday
morning, and there were three dis
tinct contributing causes. First. It
was Saturday, and he did not have to
go to work that day; second, his new
suit had come home; third, and i'm
measurably greater, though In a meas
ure bound up with reason two, he had
received letter from Georgia Gaines.
Yes, shall be in town Saturday,
but only for couple Of hours" she
wrote. "And then, perhaps. 1 shall
answer the question you want to ask
me-if you decide to ask 1t. / shall
arrive about ten o'clock, shall do my
shopping at =, shall expect you out
side"
Reason two turned to gall and
NORWOOD. The suit did not fit.
I'll take IL to the circus-I'Il give
1t to Marcelline, the clown" he solil-
oquized, when the first burst of anger
had spent itself. mo, / won't, either.
l feel so fine today--here, Bill 70
The janitor looked up from the
yard at the man in the window.
Here's new suit for YOU" cried
Brett, and flung the garments down
to him. Then, after DOMINIC his Or
binary attire, with little sigh for
lost impression, he finished his break
fast and went downtown.
Now, where are we to meetY he
asked himself little later, and felt
for the letter. His pockets were empty.
He rushed back and summoned the
janitor. "Pve got to have the letter
left In that coat" he explained.
Hurry, Bill, or I'll miss an important
engagement"
The janitor looked sheepish. "Why,
Mr.. Brett" he stammered, I'll
haven't got 1t now. / let 1t go"
You sold it, you mean" cried Brett.
"wheref"
why, Mr.. Brett, I've had some deal
ings with Mr.. Peterman's Misfit Par
lors on Fourteenth street, and"
John Brett waited not an instant,
but, hurrying out of the house, leaped
abroad moving car, and Is minutes
later found him at his destination.
"You bought a suit this morning"
he explained. "A brownish tweed.
It"
"Oh, sure, / remember" said the
proprietor afrably. That suit 1 just
sold not three minutes ago to-say,
young Teller, you hurry down that
street and you'll meet 1t walking away
on biggish man, but thin"
II bet he was thin" muttered John,
hurrying out of the store.
John Brett. ran up to him.
you've just bought that suit at Pc
terman's," he painted. II want to get
letter out Of the inside pocket. +"
letter." inquired the ascetic cheer
lessly. WHY thought that was the
letter my wife gave me to post. I'm
sorry, but it's in that letter box"
John felt like murder. but at that
very moment postman stepped
across the street, whistling briskly,
and unlocked the box, John inter-
vened.
''Postman," he said, there's a let
ter in there posted by mistake"
you'll have to go to the post office
department II you want it before it's
delivered" the postman answered.
Does money talk?" inquired John,
waving ten-dollar bill in the air.
well, amt against free speech"
answered the other, taking the bill
and handing John the letter. He
seized 1t, and then, so great was the
reaction, he was unable to open 1t for
several moments. At last he did so.
1t was the bill for the suit. which
the tailor had enclosed in the inside
pocket. And he must have left Geor-
gia's letter at home after all
He tore the letter into a hundred
pieces and then, very slowly, with
down-hanging head, he walked down
Fourteenth street.
He would go home, he would write
to Georgia and tell her what an ass
he had been-no, he would take the
first train to her home and crave for
giyeness. At the thought he swung
round, nearly colliding with a young
and attractive lady, and started in
the direction Of the terminal. But be-
fore he had gone three steps he felt
a touch on his arm and looked around.
"Well. you are rude, running away
from me like thatl" she said petu-
lantly. 81"
Georgia r. exclaimed John Brett.
"Well, didn't you expect to meet
me? Didn't you come here for that
purposel And didn't you get my let
ter appointing this placer"
".What place, Georgian John NUT
tered.
why, this place." said Georgia
sharply. "Peterman's Misfit Parlors.
John, II you don't prove to me in
stantly that you haven't been drink