Fitzgerald leader enterprise and press. (Fitzgerald, Ben Hill County, Ga.) 1921-1964, 1922-04-13

"Sure thing"
He swung around so suddenly that
she clutched at the sides Of the shell
for balance.
"Gee-you got temper like STEEL"
Silence.
Don't you get sore easy, thought"
II amt sore."
The vigorous dipping Of the paddle
and the swift cutting of water.
"Say, Gilly, amt you afraid Of
breaking the speed laws?"
Silence.
A star streaked downward and died
In its flight. Miss Fink lay fiat back
ward In the boat, her face foreshort-
ened and upturned.
"Shootin' stars luck, amt it, Gilly?"
"Dunnow
She nestled deeper into her cushion,
one arm flung high in a semicircle
about her head and her lids so low
over her eyes that she might have
been sleeping Adriana.
Drip-Drip-p! They foated silently,
In rustic Of moving waters.
A smile trembled across Miss Fink's
lips and she opened them so that her
voice came softly, softly:
Sweet and low, sweet and low.
Wind of the western sea-e;
Blow, blow, breezes blow,
Wind of the western sea-e-e-e-
The Beach hotel cleaned yellow
from every window as if it were pos
ing for a picture postcard or where
to-spend-your-vacation pamphlet.
The dining room was cleared of its
aisle-forming tables and its floor pol
tshed to a mirror. At the far end of
the room a clock pricked out in blue
and white electric bulbs glowed
against blue and white cheeseclOth
background.
Tropical palms, with skilfully dyed
fronds and twined half way up with
brown cotton moss, huddled in a little
jungle around the piano and violin
accompaniment. Straight around the
desert of room, chairs, backs to wall
and legs touching, awaited action as
stage library setting, discovered at
the rise of curtain, awaits the en-
trance Of the French maid in her four
dollar silk stockings to tickle the fur
niture and the audience with a tiny
feather buster and timer French ac-
cent.
After a while the scratching of q
violin for Its note and the one finger
um-m-n-tum-m-m on the piano; the
light blather Of voices rising to a swell.
Unstylish women In shotted silk
dresses with waist lines and decent
width skirts and bodices cut high over
bosoms that would have quivered I'M
der baroness. The invitational rhythm
Of waltz music and pink-haired violin
list swaying in the palm Jungle. A
couple glided out into the sahara of
polished floor, another and yet an
other.
Presently bobbing throng, the
women flushed with their primal love
OF the dance, the men In fast whiting
collars and out of step. Mr.. Proxies
inserted a third handkerchief, bib
fashion, inside his fainting collar and
took Miss Fink in an antiquated EN-.
brace of the waltz.
"Whew"
'For the new grand master you amt
doing bad. Proksey-you've taken
every mans wife of 'em around, amt
your"
Mr.. Proxies mopped at his face with
a fourth handkerchief and writhed In
his evening clothes as II he would fly
their broadcloth.
Eyes, but It's almost over. The
eleven o'clock song and the passing
Of the loving cup, and then I'm ready,
sister, for what been waitln' for all
evening-guessI"
'Cantw
"Oh, don't know-la-lat"
'Hear her sassin' me like my name
wasn't McPheeters."
T-
''Listen-listen, will you, to what
they're playin' up there at the Sunday
school dance. Say. are my ears kid
ding met"
Oh-n-n, It's the Teasing TangoI
dared little Reddy to play 1t tonight.
He's playing 1t for me; can you beat
itT'
Come on, kiddoi"
They sprang into each others arms
like are horses into traces Sand