Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-11-09
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

part Of the music of Autumn, a har-
mony which Is heard but once q year.
y X 4
Here is a winding, twisting street
with fine homes along it.
The pedestrian has never been down
it, and thinks this as good time as any
for investigation.
In this neighborhood of~ surprises,
filled with felicltteS of construction, I'M
usual situations and great trees and
shrubs pedestrian is forever coming
on something to delight him, even if he
has lived in the neighborhood for years.
There Is nothing of the cut and dried
here. This brick sidewalk, for instance,
is beautiful and treacherous. Its curved
surface sheds rain finely, and also
makes 1t slippery.
Future walks will be made of brick
laid in concrete, and, it is hoped, laid
fiat, not curved.
Here the walk ends.
A great mass O. fallen leaves fills the
gutter. into which one steps gingerly.
fearing sudden fall.
But no, there Is no fall. The hun
dredS Of oak leaves furnish a fine
cushion, on which the foot of man
rests as softly tonight as did the pads
OF the Indians several hundred years
ago.
Now all Is darkness, save for the
CLEANS which come from the homes
The next street light Is far in adj
vance, and Is shaded effectively by the
great trees, which as yet have not lost
all of their leaves.
Suddenly rightly woof-woof rends
the darkness. FiGo is out in the path.
disputing the way with all oncomers
The pedestrian rather thinks Fido has
an aged bark, but he does not feel In
clined to investigate
The night Is dark. and he will turn
on his tracks. Other streets will do
just as well for neighborly investiga-
ton.
AS the pedestrian set forth on this
little journey, he hao passed a nurse
and baby, seated on a low wall. II
was then twilight, and he thought
nothing of it, except to wonder why
they were there SO late.
When he. found them there later, in
the dark. he stopped to inquire.
The nurse was voluble.
The mistress had gone out, and the
master had gone out. He had taken
the key, and the child and its nurse
were locked out.
Neither had returned at the hour ex-
pected, evidently, and the child had be-
gun to cry, and the nursemaid, a port
~, pleasant colored woman, was begin
ming to fret.
She didn't want to go to the neigh
bors, she said. because they were ali so
''stuffy."
The pedestrian pointed out their
| glowing windows, and said again that
Ill his opinion, 1t might be good solu-
ton Of the problem II she would take
the child over there until its mother
and father came home.
! No, they were too "stuffy," all those
people, they wouldn't have anything to
do with nobody"
So that was what "stuffy" meant!
Lights in the windows, warm rooms
full of stuffy people, and little baby
crying on the sidewalk!
! NeighborlineSS comes to queer ends
sometimes, in a great city. The pc
destrain went his way, kicking the Au-
tumn leaves with his feet, while in the
distance bright flashes appeared and
disappeared. They were the lights OF
fine cars, as men made their way home
ward in the night, dashing along the
wide boulevard.
The lavender color had disappeared
completely from the western sky. Out
OF the city, into the suburbs, the people
were still going home.