The Ely miner., 1943-10-21

II
tions, McGee," said the Lieuthom-
as, looking up reproachfully over his
glasses. Coffee is five cents the
cup" He beamed at her. She
beamed back at him.
81 have seven boy friends" she
said, raising one forefnger delicate
ly and rubbing the other against it
in highly jeering gesture. ''I have
seven boy friends and you're not one
of them and you're not anybody's
boy friend" She hit me this time on
the elbow and made horrible face
at her.
"Myaaah," I said. "Who wants
to be your boy friend anyway"
81 wish you wouldn't blow smoke"
she said. ''It makes me cough and
it's not nice to smoke anyway. Old
cigarettesl"
I wearily crushed my last ciga-
rette in the ash tray. women,
the eternal reformer," sighed. "It
wasn't like this in the Old Army"
Miss Sidney Winkel took off her
sailor cap and arranged her big red
hair ribbon. you're a nasty old
thing and you're not nice like Johnny
and Tom and Lieutenant Meek and
Captain Wilson and all my other
boy friends" she said. After a
pause she added, airily, Sand Ma
jor Long and Captain CULLEN, too"
"Myaah," I sighed, wrinkling my
nose more violently.
"Oh there's Johnny" she sudden
ly cried, "and he's going to take my
picture and" She tripped off with
bewitching smile for Bushemi and
a running line of babble.
''No punctuation" I said to Null
vehill.
| cts woman's world, McGee,"
he said, reaching for another slice
| of toast.
"Get him away from me, Bu-
shemi!" roared Private Thomas
James Montgomery Mulvehill.
"He's got that gleam in his eye.
Get him away!"
you're just being difficult, Lieu
thomas,'' told him. "Just sit down
and relax" The Lieuthomas laid his
enormous frame on the bunk and
started slapping his knees in utter
despair.
'What kind of deal are you try
ing to swindle this time?" he asked.
Lets be reasonable, Private Null
vehill," I said, patting him reassur-
ingly on the shoulder. "As you
know, I am now working on Captain
Winkeps sympathies to get fur
Tough sometime in February :.
the first half Of February"
81 know what's coming" he
screamed. Sand won't do it! I
can't do It'll"
"Now, as you know, furloughs are
laden with little expenses-neces-
sary little expenses. To help me
along with the load, Sergeant Sher
and Private Bushemi have already
made philanthropic little loans. I
have your name on my honor roll
here, Lieuthomas. What's the do
nation?"
The MulvehiIl cringed and edged
away. "What do you need-from
me?"
"Wel," I estimated, "I should say
that ten dollars"
"Great gods and refugee chill
dren," he gasped. '"Ten dollars he
says yet! Why don't you ask me for
my ife's blood? Six dollars he owes
me already and now he's asking
oh, I can't stand it! I can't stand
i'll Take him away!"
| ''My LIES blood" he moaned.
"Where's the six I lent you two
months ago?"
"That was only five weeks ago."
I reminded him gently, "and I've
already paid two of that back.
Three weeks ago paid it back"
| "Yeah," he protested, "but you
borrowed it back the next day." He
rose and paced the floor. "What
are they doing to me? My life's
blood they would draw from
my veins? Thirty-six measly little
dollars a month I make-and he
wants ten dollars! Maybe I'm Win
throp Rockefeller I should lend out
ten dollars a clip! Thirty-six dol
lars, and he wants half"
"You see, Lieuthomas, a sad and
work-worn creature-an Alice sit-by-
the-fire whose only hope for the fu-
ture is in the faint glimmering hope
of furlough. Day after day, week
in and week out, I have worked my
frail fingers to the shoulder blade, to
make things pleasant for you and
Bushemi and Bishop. I have patched
your quarrels with the mess SER
| geant. I have saved you from the
terrible wrath of provoked Rebels.
I have sat here at night, sewing but
tons on my blouse so that you
wouldn't have to wear it hanging
open on your merry jaunts to town.
Money could not pay for the things
have done for you and Bushemi.
And now this. Ten dollars between
me and spiritual starvation-and no
ten dollars. How sharper than a
serpent's TOOTH"
Don't talk like that, Hargrove,"
he said, his voice cracking. 'Put
me down for ten."
The mighty Mulvehill walked down
the barracks aisle, muttering to him.
self. "I'm being crucifed," he bel
lowed and fell, crushed hulk of
humanity, to his bunk.
There was a little note stuck in
my typewriter when I came back
from prowling for news. It looked
like Private ("One-Shot") Bushemi's
typing. s"The stockholders of the
Union of Hargrove's Creditors" it
read, "will hold business meeting
this evening about seven o'clock in
the latrine of Barracks No. 2, Head
| r,,,orforc Rofforv D1ooco bo nroeoxx