Evening star., 1922-01-01

anything but back streets and dirt
roads.
!. X i: !:
OF COURSE, when I got wise to
~ these little tricks I didn't do a
thing but call for a diagram. I asked
him what was the idea of all this
secrecy stuff, why We didn't edge into
Lakeside amusement park with the
other Sunday night revelers and how
about taking me to Chin Longs for a
chow main banquet. Say. l got some
fine suuirms out of Willard during
that session, but mighty little else.
For the best part of an hour he
ducked and stalled around, but I
finally made him sketch out his OBJ
jections to being seen In public with
me. And I'll say they were rich.
Not that Willard put 'em crude or
brutal. He didn't have that much
courage. But here's what 1t amounted
to: He was Willard Yates Bigler.
member Of the Minnesota bar, and a
professional man of certain stand
ing in the social world. He had to
consider that. How would 1t look to
some Of his friends or relatives II he
was seen going around with-well.
somebody they'd never seen or heard
of? Or perhaps they had seen me
in the soda shop. Suppose some OF
his clients found out. Or his married
sister? Surely I could see how he
stood.
"You bet do, Willard" told him.
you're standing at the kitchen door
trying to kid along the hired girl.
But, say. it's all off! You better beat
it before she gets careless and pushes
YOU into the ash can. Get me? Here,
let me out on this next corner where
I can catch a street car home. Sure
I mean it. And from now on, Willard,
remember we're perfect strangers"
I may have said a lot more, but
that's all I remember now. Anyway,
that was the finish Of my little affair
with willard. At least, I thought 1t
was. He shifted his trade to quick
lunch joint, and from then on 1 only
saw him occasionally as he fitted
past A few months later Inez and I
made our quick exit from Duluth and
did a wild dash for New York to hunt
for her Uncle Nels. and Willard Bigler
faded into the background as serio-
comic memory that got fainter and
fainter.
Yet here he bobs up again, big as
life, staring mushy at me out Of those
near-pop eyes from the other end Of a
Central Park bench.
"I say, Trilby," he begins, "you-
you're looking mighty fine"
Like the bobbed hair, do you?" I
asks.
TITS stunning" says he; "very be-
coming to you."
Same old carrotty red. though"
says I. There's less Of 1t than be-
fore. couldn't do anything to change
my green eyes. however"
"You don't need to-" says he. IL
always did like your eyes, Trilby.
There's so much life and snap to 'ern.
And you're dressing rather smart
now, aren't you? Real New Yorky.
What-what are you doing"
'Oh, working. as usual" says I.
"H-m-m-m" says Willard. Must
have q good job. You-you get an
afternoon OF occasionally. do you?"
my work is mostly on the night
shift" says l. "why?'
WELL" says he, II was just think
ing. You see, I've got to stay around
town several days-maybe a week
more. And it's pretty dull and lone
some poking about by yourself. So
didn't know but what you might like
to-er@
+ 4 i 4
ssrTAKE in the art museum with you
1 on q free day." says I, cor visit
the Aquarium or Grants TombT
"Oh, come now" protests Willard.
"I'm not such a tight-wad as all that.
What about vaudeville or hunting up
one of these tea dancing places?"
"How reckless, Willard" says I.
Suppose someone from homo should
see your
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