Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-04-02
Speaking of Guns.
THOUGH Officer Fitzallen was
only 81, he had been on the
police force long enough to rec
a Ooyize a hunger case when he

"A OSzi1Ac a AluiiSCA CdoC WHICH, AAC
saw enc. He also knew the
symptoms manifested by q "juSt about
ready to give up and go home to the
country" case He thought that the
girl in the neat but shabby dark-blu
suit, the becoming but shabby dark
blue hat and the small, well fitting but
shabby dark brown shoes was suffer-
ing from most of the symptoms of both
the maladies.
And when, after standing uncertainty
on the curb few moments, she walked
slowly over to him and, lifting her tired
brown eyes so they looked up into his
mice, clear, blue-gray ones, said: "Will
YOU please tell me where to find a
store that sells guns?" he knew it was
mot only a case of the last days of
hunger before giving up and going
home to the country. but that in addi-
ton there were complications in the
form of a touch of whats the use OF
going on any longer?" combined with
a suggestion of why not finish all my
troubles?"
"Guns?" repeated officer Fitzallen,
reaching out protecting arm as a Ca
reening taxi threatened to make an
immediate trip to any place but a hos
pital impossible for the slim girl in
shabby blue.
"Guns? What kind of guns, miss?"
asked Officer Fitzallen.
For a moment the girl hesitated
then answered in a weary little voice:
s'Revolvers."
"Oh, revolvers," remarked Officer
Titzallen in blank tone which seemed
to indicate that the word, though
familiar, called up associations OF but
sthe faintest interest, then added bright
ny, as though great light had sud-
sdenly dawned upon him, ooh, yes!
Revolvers."
. This time he actually took hold OF
the shabby suit sleeve to make sure
that the changing street cars rushing
by at one side would not startle and
confuse the girl to the point OF caus-
ing her to shrink back into the path
of rumbling trucks and whizzing taxis.
Such a thin little arm-a munger
case, all right, was officer Fitzallen's
mental comment, as quietly, in the
midst of the roar of traffic at one OF
s4he busiest of the downtown corners
stood the dropping, shabby, little dark
blue figure, close by the Stalwart, big
chap in trinity tailored olive drab.
4 STOPPING down SO she might hear
him in spite of the roar of the traffic,
Officer Fitzallen said very distinctly.
quite close to the brim of the becom-
ing but shabby, dark-blue nat, ana, IN
.cidentally, quite close to an altogether
too thin, altogether too pale cheek,
over which blew tendril of soft brown
hair: "You said revolvers, didn't
@you?"
4 The becoming but shabby dark-blue
hat nodded gravely. The small, well
fitting but shabby dark-brown shoes
shifted uneasily - cardboard insoles
aren't much of cushion for cobble-
stones.
The Hunger Case knew, of course,
that it was crime to carry loaded re-
volvers about-she was commencing to
wonder if perhaps it wasn't also crime
to make inquiries concerning such
weapons, as Officer Fitzallen still held
her by one thin, shabby-sleeved arm.
Suddenly a still larger uniformed
man threaded his way through the
maze of cars, stepped up to Of1cer
Fitzallen, saluted him, then looked
down curiously at the brown-eyed girl
beside him.
Young lady wants to know where to
find a store that sells revolvers,' ex-
planned Officer FitZallen.
The taller man nodded knowingly
and muttered something mostly unin-