Evening star., 1933-07-16
Three LlttlcWOrdS
By George f. Worts
A Bit of Ideal Summer Fiction, and With Enough
Surprises damned Into 1t to Afford "Punches"
for Half-Dozen Average Stories.
By George f. Wmts

all these pearls before that swine. Oh, she was
was she? Maybe she was. Just maybe she
was
She heard them in the garden. Mike had q
drink in one hand. Bill had drink in one
hand and a shaker in the other Wouldn't
they be in a dandy form for the Polo Club
dance? Most OF Patricias friends would be
there. They knew she was strutting new man.
They'd be like eagles. wave of panic left her
jittery. She fool to take him to that
dance.
Nora came n looking benevolent
Listen Patricia walled Ito those hood
lums!"
You're hysterical," Nora said Come on
Pat Calm down"
"An right. all right But what DO you think
Of him?"
Good egg" Nora said
Just the same, an egg"
Yes" Nora agreed hes an egg But 50 Is
Bill"
We'll, I'm goofy about him. I'm putty in
his hands. And he's terrible. Don't say he
isn't. What am I going to do?"
Twenty or 80 years ago, the older sister of
a girl who propounded such a question would
have answered. There, there. With your re-
inning influence. year CT marriage viii work
wonders"
What Nora. a 1888 model said was He
reeks with sex appeal. Is he serious?"
He hasn't even said three little words" And
back to her theme song: But he's lust an
egg. Just the answer to a gunmolls PRAYERS"
"Oh, you little snob!" Nora said and walked
out.
DAT went gayly down to dinner That WAS
the note, Gayety She wouldn't let them
suspect that behind this smile lay the wreck
age Ct life. life blasted in its splingtime
After dinner, Bill got Patricia eff in a corner
and said, Pat, I'm beginning to suspect that
you may have spark of intelligence after ALL
When you picked Mike, you really showed that
glimmer"
Oh, no Not gliYnmer. Not real. honest
glinlmer. That was laying it on bit too thick
Good old Bill. She loved every brain in his
head-the whole two ounces
The announcements said that the dance was
being given for the benefit of the hounds Not
the rumhounds The foxhounds The big
hearted things were giving this dance for the
pack Somebody had given the pack to the
club year ago. Some of the younger mem
bers had gone in for fox hunting IL big way
with pink coats hunt breakfasts and stirrup
cups.
Most hunts Patricia had gathered ended
with the pack cornering amazed and in
dlgnant COW. or perhaps it was a deer
painting hart. The hunting members poor
young men, and with times so hard funds had
to be raised to feed the pack The club
couldn't afford to. And the poor young men
had no money for dog biscuits So all proceeds
from the tickets were to go to the dog biscuit
fund, after expenses had been deducted:
orchestra. supper and punch
Patricia learned that Mike and Bill were in
hearty accord with the project. They favored
hounds that hunted in baying packs They ap-
proved of dog biscuits.
But Patricia was more concerned with the
impression that Mike was n1akro 50 far Sbe
had recorded two. One was Sally Davenalls
Sal went miles out of her way to say in her
bright gay way, Pat. think he's grr-r-rand"
Sal was dear. Sal had perfectly priceless
gift for weighing men on the hoof at glance.
You wouldn't lie, would YOU Sal? No Sal
wouldn't lie Sal would only tiptoe I'D behind
you and sink knife in your back up to
the hilt
The opinion, or opinions. of Spenser Hewling
the sculptor, were almost worth the breath ex-
pended on them And by this hour it was a
costly breath. Spenser gave stronger women
than Patricia the jitters. His giddy descents
when tight from courty affability to militant
ugliness would curl the hair of a bronze lion
She had seen him curl the hair of many a
bronze lion.
Immediately after their introduction, Spenser
said tc Mike you've got magnificent head
I'd like to do that head. It's really wonder-
ful head Marvellous scupturing about the
jaws. Notice the fiat angle of that nose,
Patricia"
All. there's Bill Good old Bill He ap-
precates you, Mike That's quite all right, my
lads. Go into your huddle 1 love to see the
lads 60 into huddles. Good always comes out
of huddes
Dance this, Pat?"
Sailing off in the arms of Larry Crofton,
Patricia watched the huddle. The huddle was
growing. 1t now numbered eight or ten The
hunting clique! Brandishing their fists.
Trouble! Trouble to do with the dog biscuit