Evening star., 1938-09-25

ANGEL was a bad girl. All the neighbors
A said so.
4 d "A cigarette girlr' Mrs. Magnify said.
"Wheedling big tips from men! I'd rather me
Norah was under the sod.''
1T don't seem right to have a girl like
that living in amongst respectable people, :"
Mrs. Croot said. "A-coming home at such
unholy hours
l ask you that?" Mrs. Magnify leaned over
the kitchen table where the ladies were having
drop of tea. by subway or bus, like decent
girl would?"
Mrs. Croot held her breath expectantly.
Mrs. Croot lived on the second floor back, and
she really didn't have much opportunity to
watch the comings and goings of Angel Day
and her mother, new tenants on the fourth
floor front. But Mrs. Magnify on the third
floor front never missed thing.
mol" Mrs. Magnify said. "Such ways aren't
good enough for her. She comes by taxi!''
by taxiw Mrs. Croot was awed.
"All the way from the Swan Club on Fifty
fourth Street,"
From Fifty-fourth Street, Mrs. Croot
repeated, appalled,. Mentally she started cal
culating the fare. Mrs. Croot had been in taxi
once and ran UP a bill of seventy cents (she was
on her way to the hospital just before her twins
came) and the ride was an experience she never
forgot.
"She's pretty little thing" Granny said.
Looks like them cherubs on the bed posts in
the old country
What can that Mrs. Day be about" Mrs.
Croot said. letting her own flesh and blood
carry on so?"
"She's no better than her daughter, if you
ask me-" Mrs. Magnify said darkly. when
I first smelled what was going on took myself
up to their fiat, friendly-Gke, just to give
Mrs. Day piece of advice. She didn't even let
me get my nose in the door! She said she had a
customer waiting for fitting, but she didn't
look like dressmaker to me!'
In the flat above. Mrs. Day was running up
the let-out seam of Mrs. Boyles green polka
dot. The dots danced before her tired eyes.
want me to dry your hair, Angel?" she called.
mo, thanks, Mama"
BEST let me brush it when it's dry" Mrs.
Day said. She ran work-worn hand across her
own faded hair. When Angel is my age her hair
won't be faded, thought Mrs. Day. And her
shoulders won't be stopped, and her eyes won't
be dull and set, because there is nothing but
drabness to look back upon. Angel is going to
have chance! If only she weren't 50 shy. Why
can't she be nice to that young Mr.. - what
ever his name is, with all his money. Other girls
would jump at the chance to go to supper with
him. But Angel
Angel came out of the bathroom, her yellow
curls swathed in towel. She wore brassere
and brief panties. Angel was nineteen and she
had lovely young figure, but her mother noted
anxiolsly that with her hair skinned back that
way, her face looked Older She was losing her
high color. and there were dark shadows be-
meath her eyes.
If my folks had let me go on the stage. Mrs.
Day thought bitterly. when had that chance.
l might have met somebody and married diff
ferent. And my daughter wouldn't be selling
cigarettes; she'd be in a good finishing school,
Didn't Angel realize selling cigarettes was her
only chance to meet someone? Didn't she know
that women brought up in respectable poverty,
marry and die in respectable poverty?
Angel, what's the name of that young man
that's always after you to 60 to supper with