Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1921-02-11
AUTOMAT ROMANCE
BY MARY MORRISON.
C@. 1920, by Mccipre Newspaper Syndicate

1t was June-the month of roses and
brides and hurdy-gurdies. I'll Trcva-
tore" mingled with the cries of the
street vendors-"Strawberries, sweet
strawberries !" June even found its
way through the revolving doors OF
that ornately entranced lunch room.
the "automat."
Masie Gallagher, Economically
munching a sandwich, looked up sud
denly and caught the eye Of a young
man seated across the table, separated
from her by two feet of mission furni-
ture, a vinegar cruet, sugar bowl, a
bottle of tomato catsup and a salt eel
lar.
Something told Masie that this man
was not a habitue of the autOmat.
His well-cut clothes. his deliberately
turned mustache and his nicely mani
cured hands proclaimed him differ
emit"
All of a sudden she was glad her
new straw hat was so becoming and
that the floor walker at Tuppen's had
given her an extra half hour for lunch.
And because it was June she smiled
family at the young mar.
81 say" he removed the bottle of
catsup from between them and leaned
eagerly forward. "You don't look as
If you belonged in this 5-cent place.
TIL wage that the head waiter at the
Plaza is reserving a table by the win
dow for your at this minute. What's
the answer Out for experience-tO
see how the other half lives?"
Temptation nudged Masie Gala
gher's elbow and came and %ensconced
itself in her bosom, aided and abetted
by her vivid imagination and an as
siduous reading of the novels of n
Robert Chambers. She succumbed.
I'm sorry 1 show 1t so plainly" she
said to the young man with a depre-
eating air. 1--WE are spending a few
days at the Plaza before our usual
summer at Newport" And, with her
elbows on the table, rather conf1den-
TALLY. 1--WE always wanted to see the
inside of this place, you know. The
cakes and omelettes they have in the
window look SO perfectly enhancing
as l go by in the motor. If I hadn't
been afraid of shocking the chauffeur
I'd have stopped long ago. But we've
packed him off to the country, so l
seized today's opportunity"
They smiled delightedly into each
others eyes, and then Masie said:
"But what about your What are
you doing here?"
"The same thing" he replied, giving
his mustache a deliberate caress with
his beautiful hands. I'm stopping at
the club wei on Fifty-First street, see
ing the same fellows, eating the same
rich food day after day, until l am
sick to death of it. Beastly bore
living at the club-but the mater is
out of town, off on a motor trip, and
the house is shut up tight as a drum
so there was nothing else to be done.
I'm nightly glad I decided to give my
self a contrast at the automat today
mighty glad!"
isn't it funny we've lever met be-
FORE" he continued, making a mental
note of the blush.
"Well-not really" replied Masie
shamelessly. you see, we don't go
out socially at all. My father is the
most terrific old %autocrat in New York
and he says that Paris and Rome are
the only places he will allow me to go
out in. So, of course, l have missed
all fine nice things here"
And then, because life always mixes
the bitter with the sweet, the big
white clock on the wall of the auto
mat forced itself into Masie's line of
vision. One thirty! Gracious, in 10
minutes she would be due behind the
ribbon counter at Tuppen's. She rose.
II had no idea it was so late" she
said. 81 have a fitting at Tuppen's
which | must not miss.
$50 glad to have met you," she
purred.
But you haven't told me your
name" exclaimed the young man, hold
ing on to the little hand, determina-
ton in his admiring eyes,. Il must
see you again, you know"
'Pm sorry" said Masie Gallagher.
daughter of Tim Gallagher, of the New
York police force, but it's better not.
Father would insist on knowing where
had met you and there would be an
awful row. Goodby"-and, with a
heartfelt resentment at the station in
life to which it had pleased God to call
her, Masie made her way back to the
ribbon counter. That delicate. aristo-
cratic mustache burned her memory.
She sold five yards of blue ribbon to
a plump old lady who wanted it
charged and taken"
"Just a minute, please" requested
Masie listless,y, her mind far away,
THE floor walker must sign for it"
And she cried shrill and loud:
"Mr. Foster! Mr.. Fos-ter!"
For Pete's sake, Masie," said Clara
Oppenheim. who also sold ribbons st
Tuppen's department store. Don't you
know Fosters gone. There's a new