Classic Audiobook Collection - Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald ~ Full Audiobook [drama]

Episode Date: December 27, 2022

Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald audiobook. Genre: drama In Tales of the Jazz Age, F. Scott Fitzgerald gathers a vivid set of stories that capture the glitter and unease of post-World War I America, when prosperity, parties, and reinvention seemed to promise a new kind of freedom. Moving from Manhattan drawing rooms to small town streets and into dreamlike, even fable-like landscapes, Fitzgerald follows ambitious young men and women chasing status, romance, and a sense of self in a world that rewards charm but punishes sincerity. Across these sharply observed tales, characters gamble on love, money, and reputation, only to find that desire can be both a ladder and a trap. With his signature blend of wit and melancholy, Fitzgerald explores the costs of social climbing, the seductions of wealth, the fragility of youth, and the quiet heartbreak behind bright lights. By turns satirical, tender, and haunting, this collection offers a portrait of an era at its most exhilarating and most precarious, and asks what remains when the music slows and the illusions start to fade. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 00 (00:08:52) Chapter 01 (00:48:46) Chapter 02 (01:43:45) Chapter 03 (02:37:44) Chapter 04 (03:28:35) Chapter 05 (03:49:14) Chapter 06 (04:40:42) Chapter 07 (05:16:18) Chapter 08 (06:11:18) Chapter 09 (06:26:03) Chapter 10 (07:33:42) Chapter 11 (08:19:58) Chapter 12 (08:35:17) Chapter 13 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Section 1 The Jelly Bean Jim Powell was a jelly bean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing character, I feel that it would be unscrupulous to deceive you on that point. He was a bread in the bone, dyed in the wool, ninety-nine three-quarters per cent jelly bean, and he grew lazily all during jelly-bean season, which is every season down in the land of the jelly-beams well below the Mason-Dixon line. Now if you call a Memphis man a jelly-bean, he will quite possibly pull a long sinewy rope from

his hip pocket and hang you to a convenient telegraph pole. If you call a New Orleans man a jelly-bean, he will probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl through the Mardi Grub-all. The particular jelly-been patch which produced the protagonist of this history, somewhere between the two, a little city of forty thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern Georgia, occasionally stirring in its slumbers and muttering something about a war that took place some time, somewhere, and that everyone else has forgotten long ago. Jim was a jelly bean. I write that again because it has such a pleasant sound, rather like the beginning of a fairy story, as if Jim were nice. It somehow gives me a picture of a picture of

him with a round appetizing face and all sort of leaves and vegetables growing out of his cap. But Jim was long and thin and bent at the waist from stooping over pool tables, and he was what might have been known in the indiscriminating north as a corner loafer. Jelly Bean is the name throughout the undissolved confederacy for one who spends his life conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singular. I am idling. I have idled. I will idle.

jim was born in a white house on a green corner it had four weather-beaten pillars in front and a great amount of lattice-work in the rear that made a cheerful criss-cross background for a flowery sun-drenched lawn originally the dwellers in the white house had owned the ground next door and next door to that and next door to that but this had been so long ago that even jim's father scarcely remembered it he had in fact thought it a matter of so little moment that when he was dying from a pistol wound got in a brawl he neglected even to tell little jim who was five years old and miserably frightened the white house became a boarding-house run by a tight-lipped lady from macken whom jim called auntie mamie and detested with all his soul he became fifteen went to high school wore his hair in black snarls and was afraid of girls he hated his home where four women and one old man prolonged an interminable chatter from summer to summer about what lots the powell place had originally included and what sorts of flowers would be out next sometimes the parents of little girls in town remembering jim's mother and fancying a resemblance in the dark eyes and hair invited him to parties but parties made him shy and he much preferred sitting on a disconnected axle in tilly's garage rolling the bones or exploring his mouth endlessly with a long straw. For pocket money he picked up odd jobs, and it was due to this that he stopped going to parties.

At his third party, Little Marjorie Haight, had whispered indiscreetly and within hearing distance that he was a boy who brought the groceries sometimes. So instead of the Two-Step and Polka, Jim had learned to throw any number he desired on the dice and had listened to spicy tales of all the shootings that had occurred in the surrounding country during the past fifty years. He became 18. The war broke out, and he enlisted as a gob and polished brass in the Charleston Navy Yard for a year. Then by way of variety, he went north and polished brass in the Brooklyn Navy Yard for a year. When the war was over, he came home. He was 21. His trousers were too short and too tight. His buttoned shoes were long and narrow.

His tie was an alarming conspiracy of purple and pink, marvelously scrolled, and over it were two blue eyes faded like a piece of very good old cloth, long exposed to the sun. In the twilight of one April evening when a soft gray had drifted down along the cotton fields and over the sultry town, he was a vague figure leaning against a board fence, whistling and gazing at the moon's rim above the lights of Jackson Street. His mind was working persistently on a problem that had held his attention for an hour. The jelly bean had been invited to a party. Back in the days when all the boys had detested all the girls, Clark Darrow and Jim had sat side by side in school. But while Jim's social aspirations had died in the oily air of the garage, Clark had alternately fallen in and out of love,

gone to college, taken to drink, giving it up, and, in short, become one of the best bows of the town. nevertheless clark and jim had retained a friendship that though casual was perfectly definite that afternoon clark's ancient ford had slowed up beside jim who was on the sidewalk and out of a clear sky clark invited him to a party at the country club the impulse that made him do this was no stranger than the impulse which made jim accept the latter was probably an unconscious on we a half-frightened sense of adventure and now jim was soberly thinking it over he began to sing drumming his long foot idly on a stone block in the sidewalk till it wobbled up and down in time to the low throaty's tune one smile from home in jelly-been town lives jeanie the jeanie the janey the jane jelly bean queen she loves her dice and treats em nice no dice would treat her mean he broke off and agitated the sidewalk to a bumpy gallop dagon he muttered half aloud they would all be there the old crowd the crowd to which by right of the white house sold long since in the portrait of the officer in gray over the mantle jim should have belonged but that crowd had grown up together into a tight little set as grass as the girls' dresses had lengthened inch by inch, as definitely as the boy's trousers had dropped suddenly to their ankles. And to that society of first names and dead puppy loves, Jim was an outsider,

a running mate of poor whites. Most of the men knew him, condescendingly. He tipped his hat to three or four girls. That was all. When the dusk had thickened into a blue setting for the moon, he walked through the hot pleasantly pungent town to Jackson Street. The stores were closing, and the last shoppers were drifting homeward, as if born on the dreamy revolution of a slow merry-go-round. A street fare farther down, a brilliant alley of varicolored booths and contributed a blend of music to the night, an oriental dance on a calliope, a melancholy bugle in front of a freak show, a cheerful rendition of Back Home in Tennessee on a hand-organ. The jelly bean stopped in a store and bought a collar.

Then he sauntered along towards Soda Sam's, where he found the usual three or four cars of a summer evening parked in front and the little darkies running back and forth with sundays and lemonade. Hello, Jim. It was the voice at his elbow. Joe Ewing sitting in an automobile with Marilyn Wade. Nancy Lamar and a strange man were in the back seat.

The jelly bean tipped his hat quickly. "'Hi, Ben.' Then after an almost imperceptible pause, "'How y'all!' Passing he ampled on toward the garage where he had a room upstairs. His how y'all had been said to Nancy Lamar, to whom he had not spoken in fifteen years.

Nancy had a mouth like a remembered kiss and shadowy eyes and blue-black hair inherited from her mother who had been born in Budapest. Jim passed her often on the street walking small-boy fashion with her hands in her pockets, and he knew that with her inseparable Sally Carroll Hopper she had left a trail of broken hearts from Atlanta to New Orleans. For a few fleeting moments Jim wished he could dance. Then he laughed, and as he reached the door began to sing softly to himself. Her jelly roll can twist your soul, her eyes are big and brown. She's...

is the queen of the queens of the jelly beans my genie of jelly bean town two at nine thirty jim and clark met in front of soda sams and started for the country club in clark's ford jim asked clark casually as they rattled through the jasmine scent at night how do you keep alive the jelly bean paused considered well he said finally i got a room over tilly's garage I help him some with the cars in the afternoon, and he gives it to me free. Sometimes I drive one of his taxis and pick up a little that away. I got fed up doing that regular, though. That all? Well, then there's a lot of work I help him by the day, Saturdays usually, and then there's one main source of revenue I don't generally mention.

Maybe you don't recollect him about the champion crapshooter of this town. They make me shoot from a cup now, because once I get the feel of a pair of dice, they just roll for me. Clark grinned appreciatively. I never could learn to set them so as they'd do what I wanted. Wish you'd shoot with Nancy Lamar someday and take all her money away from her. She will roll them with the boys, and she loses more than her daddy can afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ring last month to pay a debt. The jelly bean was non-committal.

"'The White House on Elm Street still belong to you?' Jim shook his head. "'Sold. Got a pretty good price, seeing it wasn't in a good part of town no more. Lawyer told me to put it into Liberty Bonds. But Aunt Mamie got so she didn't have no sense, so it takes all the interest to keep her up at Great Farm Sanitarium. Hmm. I got an old uncle upstate, and I reckon I can go there if ever I get sure enough poor.

"'Nice farm, but not enough niggers around to work it. "'He's asked me to come up and help him, but I don't guess I'd take much to it.' "'Too doggone lonesome,' he broke off suddenly. "'Clark, I want to tell you, I'm much obliged to you for asking me out. "'But I'd be a lot happier if you'd just stop the car right here and let me walk back to town.' "'Shucks!' Clark grunted. "'Do you good to step out. You don't have to dance. Just get out there on the floor and shake.' hold on exclaimed jim uneasily don't you go leading me up to any girls and leaving me there so i'll have to dance with em clark laughed cause continued jim desperately

Without you swear you won't do that, I'm a-going to get out right here, and my good legs go on carry me back to Jackson Street. They agreed after some argument that Jim, unmolested by females, was to view the spectacle from a secluded settee in the corner where Clark would join him whenever he wasn't dancing. So ten o'clock found the jelly bean with his legs crossed and his arms conservatively folded, trying to look casually at home and politely uninterested in the dancers.

At heart he was torn between overwhelming self-consciousness and an intense curiosity as to all that went on around him. He saw the girls emerge one by one from the dressing-room, stretching and pluming themselves like bright birds, smiling over their powdered shoulders at the chaperones, casting a quick glance around to take in the room, and simultaneously the room's reaction to their entrance. And then, again like birds, alighting and nestling in the sober arms of their waiting escort, sally carroll hopper blonde and lazy-eyed appeared clad in her favorite pink and blinking like an awakened rose marjorie hath marilyn wade harriet carey all the girls he had seen loitering down jackson street by noon now curled and brillianined and delicately tinted for the overhead lights were miraculously strange dresden figures of pink and blue and red and gold fresh from the shop and not yet fully dried

he had been there half an hour totally uncheered by clark's jovial visits which were each one accompanied by a hullo old boy how you make an out and a slap at his knee a dozen males had spoken to him or stopped for a moment beside him but he knew that they were each one surprised at finding him there and fancied that one or two were even slightly resentful but at half-past ten his embarrassment suddenly left him and a pull of breathless interest took him completely out of himself Nancy Lamar had come out of the dressing-room. She was dressed in yellow organdy, a costume of a hundred cool corners with three tears of ruffles and a big bowen back until she shed black and yellow around her in a sort of phosphorescent luster. The jelly-been's eyes opened wide and a lump arose in his throat, for she stood beside the door until her partner hurried up. Jim recognized him as the stranger who had been with her in Joe Ewing's car that afternoon.

He saw her set her arms akimbo and say something in a low voice and laugh. The man laughed, too, and Jim experienced the quick pang of a weird new kind of pain. Some ray had passed between the pair, a shaft of beauty from that sun that had warmed him a moment since. The jelly bean felt suddenly like a weed in a shadow. A moment later, Clark approached him, bright-eyed and glowing. "'Hi, old man!' he cried with some lack of originality. "'How you make you now?' Jim replied that he was making out as well as could be expected.

You come along with me, commanded Clark. I've got something that'll put an edge on the evening. Jim followed him awkwardly across the floor and up the stairs to the locker room where Clark produced a flask of nameless yellow liquid. Good old corn! Ginger ale arrived on a tray. Such potent nectar as good old corn needed some disguise beyond seltzer. Say, boy, exclaimed Clark breathlessly.

doesn't Nancy Lamar look beautiful? Jim nodded. Mighty beautiful, he agreed. She's all dolled up to a fair you well tonight, continued Clark. Notice that fellow she's with? Big fella, white pants? Yeah, well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes the Merritt safety razors. This fella's crazy about her, been chasing after her all year. She's a wild baby, continued Clark, but I like her. so does everybody but she sure does do crazy stunts she usually gets out alive but she's got scars all over her reputation from one thing or another she's done that's so jim passed over his glass that's good corn not so bad oh she's a wild one shoot craps say boy and she do like her highballs promised i'd give her one later on she's in love with this merit damned if i know seems like a

all the best girls around here marry fellas and go off somewhere. He poured himself one more drink and carefully corked the bottle. Listen, Jim, I got to go dance and I'd be much obliged if you just stick this corn right on your hip as long as you're not dancing. If a man notices I've had a drink, he'll come up and ask me, and before I know it, it's all gone, and somebody else is having my good time. So Nancy Lamar was going to marry. This toast of a town was to become the private property of an individual in white trousers, and all because white trousers' father had made a better razor than his neighbor. As they descended the stairs, Jim found the idea inexplicably depressing. For the first time in his life he felt a vague and romantic yearning. A picture of her

began to form in his imagination, Nancy walking boylike and debonair along the street, taking an orange as tithe from a worshipful fruit dealer, charging a dope on a mythical account. And at soda-sams, assembling a convoy of bows, and then driving off in triumphal state for an afternoon of splashing and singing. The jelly-bean walked out on the porch to a deserted corner, dark between the moon, on the lawn, and the single-lighted door of the ballroom. There he found a chair, and lighting a cigarette, drifted into the thoughtless reverie that was his usual mood. Yet now it was a reverie made sensuous by the night and by the hot smell of damp powder-puffs, tucked in the fronts of low-dress and distilling a thousand rich scents to float out through the open door.

The music itself, blurred by a loud trombone, became hot and shadowy, a languorous overtone to the scraping of many shoes and slippers. Suddenly the square of yellow light that fell through the door was obscured by a dark figure. A girl had come out of the dressing room and was standing on the porch not more than ten feet away. Jim heard a low breath, Daghgone! And then she turned and saw him. it was nancy lamar jim rose to his feet howdy hello she paused hesitated and then approached oh it's jim powell he bowed slightly tried to think of a casual remark

do you suppose she began quickly i mean do you know anything about gum what i've got gum on my shoe some utter ass left his or her gum on the floor and of course i stepped in it jim blushed inappropriately do you know how to get it off she demanded petulantly i've tried a knife i've tried every damn thing in the dressing-room i've tried soap and water and even perfume and i've ruined my powder-puff trying to make it stick to that jim considered the question in some agitation why i think maybe gasoline the words had scarcely left his lips when she grasped his hand and pulled him at a run off the low veranda over a flower-bed and at a gallop toward a group of cars parked in the moonlight by the first hole of the golf course turn on the gasoline she commanded breathlessly what for the gum of course i've got to get it off i can't dance with gum on obediently jim turned to the cars and began inspecting them with a view to obtaining the desired solvent had she demanded a cylinder he would have done his best to wrench one out here he said after a moment's search here's one that's easy got a handkerchief it's upstairs wet i used it for the soap and water jim laboriously explored his pockets don't believe i got one either doggone it well we can turn it on and let it run on the ground he turned the spout a dripping began more he turned it on fuller the dripping became a floe and formed an oily pool that glistened brightly reflecting a dozen tremulous moons on its quivering bosom.

Ah, she sighed contendedly. Let it all out. The only thing to do is to wait in it. In desperation he turned on the tap full, and the pool suddenly widens sending tiny rivers and trickles in all directions. That's fine. That's something like. Raising her skirt, she stepped gracefully in. I know this'll take it off, she murmured. Jim smiled.

There's lots more cars. She stepped daintily out of the gasoline and began scraping her slippers. side and bottom on the running board of the automobile. The jelly bean contained himself no longer. He bent double with explosive laughter, and after a second she joined in. You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you? she asked as they walked back toward the veranda. Yes. You know where he is now? Out dancing, I reckon. The deuce. He promised me a highball. Well, said Jim, I guess that'll be all right. I got his bottle right here in my pocket. She smiled at him radiantly.

I guess maybe you'll need ginger ale, though, he added. Not me, just the bottle. Sure enough, she laughed scornfully. Try me, I can drink anything any man can. Let's sit down. She perched yourself on the side of a table and he dropped into one of the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out the cork, she held the flask through her lips and took a long drink. He watched her fascinated. Like it? She shook her head breathlessly. No, but I like the way it makes me feel.

I think most people are that way. Jim agreed. My daddy liked it too well. It got him. American men, said Nancy gravely, don't know how to drink. What? Jim was startled.

In fact, she went on carelessly, they don't know how to do anything very well. The one thing I regret in my life is that I wasn't born in England. in england yes it's the one regret of my life that i wasn't do you like it over there yes immensely i've never been there in person but i've met a lot of englishmen who were over here in the army oxford and cambridgemen you know that's like swanee and university of georgia are here and of course i read a lot of english novels jim was interested amazed d'ye ever hear of lady diana manor she asked earnestly no jim had not well she's what i'd like to be dark you know like me and wildest sin she's the girl who rode her horse up the steps of some cathedral or church or something and all the novelists made their heroines do it afterwards jim nodded politely he was out of his depths past the bottle suggested nancy i'm going to take another little one a little drink wouldn't hurt a baby you see she continued again breathless after a draft People over there have style. Nobody has style here. I mean the boys here aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for. Don't you know? I suppose so. I mean, I suppose not, murmured Jim.

And I'd like to do them all. I'm really the only girl in town that has style. She stretched out her arms and yawned pleasantly. Pretty evening. Sure is, agreed Jim. Like to have a boat, she suggested dreamily. Like to sail out on a silver lake, the Thames, for instance. Have champagne and caviar sandwiches along? Have about eight people, and one of the men would jump overboard to amuse the party, and get drowned like a man did with Lady Diana Manners once. Did he do it to please her? Didn't mean to drown himself to please her. He just meant to jump overboard and make everybody laugh. I reckon they just died laughing when he drowned. Oh, I suppose they laughed a little, she admitted. I imagine she did

anyway. She's pretty hard, I guess, like I am. You hard? Like nails, she yawned again and added. Give me a little more from that bottle. Jim hesitated, but she held out her hand defiantly. Don't you treat me like a girl, she warned him. I'm not like any girl you ever saw, she considered. Still, perhaps you're right. You got old head on young shoulders. She jumped to her feet and moved toward the door. The jelly bean rose also.

"'Good-bye,' she said politely. "'Good-bye. Thanks, Jelly Bean.' Then she stepped inside and left him wide-eyed upon the porch. Three. At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the women's dressing-room, and each one pairing with a coated bow like dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with sleepy, happy laughter, through the door into the dark where Otto's backed and snorted and parties called to one another and gathered around the water-cooler.

Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at eleven, when Clark had gone in to dance. So, seeking him, Jim wandered into the soft drink stand that had once been a bar. The room was deserted except for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two boys lazily fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables. Jim was about to leave when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark looked up. Hi, Jim, he commanded. Come on over and help us with this bottle. I guess there's not much left, but there's one all around. Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marilyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were lolling and laughing in the doorway. Nancy caught Jim Zion, winked at him humorously.

They drifted over to a table and, arranging themselves around it, waited for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel-crap game with the two boys at the next table. Bring them over here, suggested Clark. Joe looked around. We don't want to draw a crowd. It's against club rules. Nobody's around, insisted Clark, except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up and down, like a wild man, trying to find out who let all the gasoline out of his car. There was a general laugh. I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park when she's around.

Oh, Nancy, Mr. Taylor's looking for you. Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. I haven't seen his silly little flivver in two weeks. Jim felt a sceptive. sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of uncertain age standing in the doorway. Clark's voice punctuated the embarrassment. Why don't you join us, Mr. Taylor? Thanks, Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. Have to, I guess. I'm waiting till they'd dig me up some gasoline. Somebody got funny with my car. His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other.

Jim wondered what he had heard from the doorway, tried to remember what had been said. tonight, Nancy sang out, and my four bits is in the ring. Fated, snapped Taylor suddenly. Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot, craps. Nancy was overjoyed to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely discouraged a series of rather pointed advances. All right, babies, do it for your mama.

Just one little seven, Nancy was cooing to the dice. She rattled them with a brave underhand flourish and rolled them out on the table. Ah, I suspected it, and now again with the dollar up. Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it personal, and after each success, Jim watched triumph flutter across her face. She was doubling with each throw, such luck could scarcely last. Better go easy, he cautioned her timidly. Ah, but match this one, she whispered.

It was an eight on the dice, and she called her number. "'Little Ada, this time we're going south!' Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and half hysterical, but her luck was holding. She drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming with his fingers on the table, but he was in to stay. Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them avidly. He shot in silence and in the hush of excitement,

the clatter of one pass after another on the table was the only sound. now nancy had the dice again but her luck had broken an hour passed back and forth it went taylor had been at it again and again and again they were even at last nancy lost her ultimate five dollars will you take my check she said quickly for fifty and we'll shoot it all her voice was a little unsteady and her hand shook as she reached to the money clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with joe ewing taylor shot again he had nancy's check how about another she said wildly just any bank'll do money everywhere as a matter of fact jim understood the good old corn he had given her the good old corn she had taken since he wished he dared interfere a girl of that age in position would hardly have two bank accounts when the clock struck two he contained himself no longer may i can't you let me roll em for you he suggested his low lazy voice a little strained suddenly sleepy and listless nancy flung the dice down before him. All right, oh boy, as Lady Diana Manners says, shoot him, jelly bean, my luck's gone. Mr. Taylor, said Jim carelessly, we'll shoot for one of those there checks against the cash. Half an hour later, Nancy swayed forward and clapped him on

the back. Stole my luck you did, she was nodding her head sagely. Jim swept up the last check and putting it with the others tore them into confetti and scattered them on the floor. Someone started singing and Nancy kicking her chair backward rose to her feet. "'Ladies and gentlemen,' she announced, "'ladies, that's you, Marilyn, I want to tell the world that Mr. Jim Powell, who is a well-known jelly-bean of this city, is an exception to the great rule, lucky and dice, unlucky in love. He's lucky in dice, and as a matter of fact, I—I love him! Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Lamar, famous dark-haired beauty, often featured in the

herald as one of the most popular members of younger set as other girls are often featured in this particular case wish to announce wish to announce anyway gentlemen she tipped suddenly clark caught her and restored her balance my error she laughed she stoops to stoops to anyways we'll drink to jelly-beam mr jim powell king of the jelly-beams and a few minutes later as jim waited hat in hand for clark in the darkness of that same corner of the porch, where she had come searching for gasoline, she appeared suddenly beside him. "'Gellybean?' she said. "'Are you here, Jelly Bean? I think.' And her slight unsteadiness seemed part of an enchanted dream. "'I think you deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that jelly bean.' For an instant her arms were around his neck. Her lips were pressed to his.

"'I'm a wild part of the world, Jelly Bean, but you did me a good turn.' Then she was gone, down the porch, over the cricket loud lawn. Jim saw Merritt come out the front door and say something to her angrily, saw her laugh and, turning away, walk with averted eyes to his car. Marilyn and Joe followed, singing a drowsy song about a jazz baby. Clark came out and joined him on the steps. All pretty lit, I guess, he yawned. Merritt's in a mean mood. He's certainly off Nancy. Over east along the golf course, a faint rug of gray spread itself across the feet of the night. The party in the car began to chant a chorus as the engine warmed up. "'Good night, everybody,' called Clark. "'Good night, Clark. Good night, good night.'

There was a pause and then a soft, happy voice added, "'Good night, Jelly Bean!' The car drove off to a burst of singing. A rooster on a farm across the way took up a solitary, mournful crow, and behind them, a last negro waiter turned out the porch light. Jim and Clark strolled over toward the Ford, their shoes crunching raucously on the gravel drive. Oh, boy, sighed Clark softly. How you can set those dice! It was still too dark for him to see the flush on Jim's thin cheeks or to know that it was a flush of unfamiliar shame. Four, over Tilly's garage, a bleak room echoed all day to the rumble and snorting downstairs in the singing of the Negro washers as they turned the hose on the cars outside. it was a cheerless square of a room punctuated with a bed and a battered table on which lay half a dozen books joe miller's slow train through arkansas lucille in an old edition very much annotated in an old-fashioned hand the eyes of the world by harold bell right

and an ancient prayer-book of the church of england with the name alice powell and the date eighteen thirty one written on the fly-leaf the east gray when jelly-been entered the garage became a rich and vivid blue as he turned on his solitary electric light he snapped it out again and going to the window rested his elbows on the sill and stared into the deepening morning with the awakening of his emotions his first perception was a sense of futility a dull ache at the utter grayness of his life a wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging him in a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare room and with his perception of this wall all that had been the romance of his existence the casualness the light-hearted improvidence the miraculous open-handedness of life faded out the jelly-bean strolling up jackson street humming a lazy song known at every shop and street-stand crop full of easy greeting and local wit sad sometimes for only the sake of sadness and the flight of time that jelly-bean was suddenly vanished the very name was a reproach a triviality. With a flood of insight he knew that Merritt must despise him, that even Nancy's kiss in the dawn would have awakened not jealousy, but only a contempt for Nancy's so lowering herself. And on his part the jelly-bean had used her for a dingy subterfuge, learned from the garage.

He had been her moral laundry. The stains were his. As the gray became blue, brightened, and filled the room, he crossed to his bed and threw himself down on it, gripping the edges fiercely. i love her he cried out god as he said this something gave way within him like a lump melting in his throat the air cleared and became radiant with dawn and turning over on his face he began to sobbed dully into the pillow in the sunshine of three o'clock clark darrow chugging painfully along jackson street was hailed by the jelly bean who stood on the curb with his fingers in his vest pockets hi called clark bringing his ford to an astonishing stop alongside just get up the jelly bean shook his head never did go to bed felt sort of restless so i took a long walk this morning out in the country just got into town this minute should think you would feel restless i've been feeling that away all day i'm thinking of leaving town continued the jelly bean absorbed by his own thoughts been thinking of going up on the farm and taking a little that work off uncle dun reckon i been bummin too long clark was silent and the jelly bean continued i reckon maybe after aunt mamie dies i could sink that money of mine in the farm and make something out of it all my people originally and he came from that part up there, had a big place. Clark looked at him curiously.

That's funny, he said. This, this sort of affected me the same way. The jelly bean hesitated. I don't know, he began slowly. Something about, about that girl last night, talking about a lady named Diana Manners. An English lady sort of got me thinking. He drew himself up and looked oddly at Clark. I had a family once, he said defiantly. Clark nodded. I know. But I'm the last of them, continued the jelly bean,

his voice rising slightly. And I ain't worth shucks. Name they call me by means jelly, weak and wobbly-like. People who weren't nothing when my folks was a lot turned up their noses when they passed me on the street.

Again, Clark was silent. So I'm through. I'm going today. And when I come back to this town it's going to be like a gentleman. Clark took out his handkerchief and wiped his damp brow. Reckon you're not the only one it shook up, he admitted gloomily.

All this thing of girls going around like they do is going to stop right quick. Too bad, too, but everybody'll have to see it that way. Do you mean? demanded Jim in surprise, that all that's leaked out? Leaked out, how on earth could they keep it secret? It'll be announced in the papers tonight. Dr. Lamar's got to save his name somehow. Jim put his hands on the side of the car and tight. his long fingers on the metal.

Do you mean Taylor investigated those checks? It was Clark's turn to be surprised. Haven't you heard what happened? Jim's startled eyes were answer enough. Why? answered Clark dramatically. Those four got another bottle of corn, got tight, and decided to shock the town. So Nancy and that fellow Merritt were married in Rockville at seven o'clock this morning. A tiny indentation appeared in the metal under Jelly Bean's fingers.

married sure enough nancy sobered up and rushed back into town crying and frightened to death claimed it had all been a mistake first dr lamar went wild and was going to kill merritt but finally they got it patched up some way and nancy and merritt went to savannah on the two-thirty train jim closed his eyes and with an effort overcame a sudden sickness it's too bad said clark philosophically i don't mean the wedding reckon that's all right though i don't guess nancy cared a darn about him but it's a crime for a nice girl like that to hurt her family that way. The jelly bean let go the car and turned away. Again, something was going on inside him, some inexplicable but almost chemical change. Where you going? asked Clark. The jelly bean turned and looked dully back over his shoulder. Got to go, he muttered. Been up too long, feeling right sick. Oh, the street was hot at three and hotter still at four. The April dust seeming to enmesh the sun and get it. it forth again as the world old jote forever played on an eternity of afternoons but at half-past four a first layer of quiet fell and the shades lengthened over the awnings and heavy foliage trees in this heat nothing mattered

all life was weather awaiting through the hot where events had no significance for the cool that was soft and caressing like a woman's hand on a tired forehead down in georgia there is a feeling perhaps inarticulate that this is the greatest wisdom of the South, so after a while the jelly bean turned into a pool hall on Jackson Street, where he was sure to find a congenial crowd who would make all the old jokes, the ones he knew. End of Section 2. Read by Don W. Jenkins,

Rancho San Diego, California, shaggybark. Blogspot.com Section 3 of Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This Libra V. is in the public domain recording by Don W. Jenkins The camel's back. One. The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above title will presume it to be merely metaphorical. Stories about the cup and the lip and the

bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything to do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms. This story is the exception. It has to do with a material, and large as life, Camels back. Starting from the neck, we shall work toward the tail. I want you to meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, 28, lawyer, native of Toledo. Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard diploma, parts his hair in the middle, you have met him before in Cleveland, Portland, St. Paul, Indianapolis, Kansas City, and so forth. Baker brothers, New York, pause on their semi-annual trip through the west to clothe him. montmorency and company dispatch a young man post-haste every three months to see that he has the correct number of little punctures on his shoes he has a domestic roadster now we'll have a french roadster if he lives long enough and doubtless a chinese tank if it comes into fashion he looks like the advertisement of the young man rubbing his sunset-colored chest with liniment and goes east every other year to his class reunion i want you to meet his love

Her name is Betty Middill, and she would take well in the movies. Her father gives her three hundred a month to dress on, and she has tawny eyes and hair and feather fans of five colors. I shall also introduce her father, Cyrus Madill. Though he is to all appearances, flesh and blood, he is, strange to say, commonly known in Toledo as the aluminum man. But when he sits in his club window with two or three iron men, and the white pine man, and the brass man, they look very much as you and I do, only more so,

if you know what I mean. Now, during the Christmas holidays of 1919, there took place in Toledo, counting only the people with the italicized the, 41 dinner parties, 16 dances, six luncheons, male and female, 12 teas, four stag dinners, two weddings, and 13 bridge parties. It was the cumulative effect of all this that moved perry parkhurst on the twenty ninth day of december to a decision this middell girl would marry him and she wouldn't marry him she was having such a good time that she hated to take such a definite step meanwhile their secret engagement had got so long that it seemed as if any day it might break off of its own weight a little man named warburton who knew it all persuaded perry to superman her to get a marriage license and go up to the middill house and tell her she'd have to marry him at once or call it off for ever so he presented himself his heart his license and his ultimatum and within five minutes they were in the midst of a violent quarrel a burst of sporadic open fighting such as occurs nearer the end of all long wars and engagements. It brought about one of those ghastly lapses in which two people, who are in love, pull up sharp, look at each other coolly, and think it's all been a

mistake. Afterwards they usually kiss wholesomely and assure the other person it was all their fault. Say it was all my fault. Say it was. I want to hear you say it. But while reconciliation was trembling in the air, while each was, in a measure stalling it off so that they might the more voluptuously and sentimentally enjoy it when, it came, they were permanently interrupted by a twenty-minute phone call for Betty from a garrulous aunt. At the end of 18 minutes, Perry Parkhurst, urged on by pride and suspicion and injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, picked up his light brown soft hat, and stopped out the door. "'It's all over,' he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into first.

"'It's all over. If I have to choke you for an hour, damn you!' the last to the car which had been standing some time and was quite cold he drove down town that is he got into a snow rut that led him down town he had slouched down very low in his seat much too dispirited to care where he went in front of the clarendon hotel he was hailed from the sidewalk by a bad man named bailey who had big teeth and lived at the hotel and had never been in love perry said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him at the curb i've got six quarts of the doggone distill champagne you ever tasted a third of it's yours perry if you'll come upstairs and help martin macy and me drink it bailey said perry tensely i'll drink your champagne i'll drink every drop of it i don't care if it kills me shut up you not said the bad man gently they don't put wood alcohol in champagne this is the stuff that proves the world is more than six thousand years old it's so ancient that the cork is petrified you have to pull it with a stone drill take me upstairs said perry moodily if that cork sees my heart it'll fall out from pure mortification the room upstairs was full of those innocent hotel pictures of little girls eating apples and sitting in swings and talking to dogs the other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper devoted to ladies in pink tights when you have to go into the highways and byways said the pink man looking reproachfully at bailey and perry hello martin macy said perry shortly where is this stone age champagne what's the rush this isn't an operation understand this is a party

Perry sat down Dolly and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. Bailey leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six handsome bottles. Take off that darned fur coat, said Martin Macy to Perry. Or maybe you'll like to have us open all the windows. Give me the champagne, said Perry. Going to the Townsend's Circus Ball tonight? Am not. Invited?

Uh-huh. Why not go? Oh, I'm sick of parties. exclaimed Perry. I'm sick of them. I've been to so many that I'm sick of them. Maybe you're going to the Howard Tate's party? No, I tell you, I'm sick of them. Well, said Macy consolingly, the Tate's is just for college kids anyways. I tell you, I thought you'd be going to one of them anyways. I see by the papers you haven't missed a one this Christmas.

Hmm, grunted Perry morosely. He would never go to any more parties. Classical phrases played in his mind. That sight of his life was closed. Closed. Now when a man says closed, closed like that, you can be pretty sure that some woman has double-closed him, so to speak. Perry was also thinking that other classical thought about how cowardly suicide is. A noble thought, that one, warm and inspiring. Think of all the fine men we should lose if suicide were not so cowardly. An hour later was six o'clock, and Perry had lost all resemblance to the young man. in the liniment advertisement. He looked like a rough draft for a riotous cartoon. They were singing an impromptu song of Bailey's improvisation. One lump Perry, the parlour snake, famous

through the city for the way he drinks his tea, plays with it, toys with it, makes no noise with it, ball and stone a napkin on his well-trained knee. Trouble is, said Perry, who had just banged his hair with Bailey's comb and was tying an orange tie around it to get the effect of Julius Caesar. But you fellas can't sing worth a darn. Soon as I leave the air and start singing tenor, you start singing tenor too. "'I'm a natural tenor,' said Macy gravely. "'Voice lacks cultivation, that's all. Got a natural voice. Maint used to say, "'Naturally good singer.'

"'Singer, singers, all good singers,' remarked Bailey, who was at the telephone. "'No, not at the cabaret. I want one egg. I mean some doggone thing. clerk, that's got food. Food, I want. Julius Caesar, announced Perry, turning round from the mirror. Man of iron, will and stern termination. Shut up, yelled Bailey. Say us, Mr. Bailey, send up enormous supper. Use your own judgment, right away. He connected the receiver and the hook with some difficulty, and then, with his lips closed and an expression of solemn intensity in his eyes,

went to the lower drawer of his dresser and pulled it open. Look it! he commanded. In his hands he held the truncated garment of pink gingham. Pants! he exclaimed gravely. Look it! This was a pink blouse, a red tie, and a buster-brown collar. Look it, he repeated. Costume for the Townsend Circus Ball.

I'm a little boy carries water for the elephants. Perry was impressed in spite of himself. I'm going to be Julius Caesar, he announced after a moment of concentration. But you weren't going, said Macy. "'Me?' "'Sure I'm going. Never miss the party. Good for the nerves, like celery.' "'Cesar,' scoffed Bailey. "'Can't be Caesar. He's not about a circus.

"'Cesar's Shakespeare. Go with a clown.' Perry shook his head. "'No, Caesar.' "'Cesar?' "'Sure. Chariot.' Light dawned on Bailey. "'That's right. Good idea.' Perry looked round the room searchingly.

"'You lend me a bathrobe in this. tie, he said finally, Bailey considered. No good. Sure, that's all I need. Caesar was a savage. They can't kick if I come as Caesar if he was a savage. No, said Bailey, shicking his head slowly. Get a costume over the costumers, over at Nolak's. Closed up. Find out. After a puzzling five minutes at the phone, a small, weary voice managed to convince Perry that it was Mr. Nolak speaking and that they would remain open until eight because of the Townsend's ball. Thus assured Perry ate a great amount of fillet mignon and drank his third of the last bottle of champagne. At 8.15 the man in the

tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to start his roadster. "'Frose up,' said Perry wisely. "'The colds froze it, the cold air.' "'Frozeer?' "'Yes, cold air froze it.' "'Can't start it?' "'Nope. let it stand here till summer one of those hot old august days'll thawed out all right going to let it stand sure let her stand take a hot thief to steal it give me taxi the man in the tall hat summoned a taxi where to mr go to noelak's costume fella two mrs noelack was short and ineffectual looking and on the cessation of the national war had

belonged for a while to one of the new nationalities. Owing to unsettled European condition, she had never since been quite sure what she was. The shop in which she and her husband performed their daily stint was dim and ghostly, and peopled with suits of armor and Chinese mandarin's, and enormous papermashe birds suspended from the ceiling. In a vague background, many rows of masks glared eyelessly at the visitor, and there were glass cases full of crowns and scepters, and jewels and enormous stomachers and paints and crape hair and wigs of all colors when perry ambled into the shop mrs noelack was folding up the last troubles of a strenuous day so she thought in a drawer full of pink silk stockings something for you she queried pessimistically what costume of julius hur the charioteer mrs noelack was sorry but every stitch of charioteer had been rented long ago was it for the townsend's circus ball? It was.

Sorry, she said. But I don't think there's anything left that's really circus. This was an obstacle. Hmm, said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly. If you've got a piece of canvas, I could go as a tent.

Sorry, but we haven't anything like that. A hardware stores where you'd have to go. We have some very nice Confederate soldiers. No, no soldiers. and I have a very handsome king. He shook his head. Several of the gentlemen, she continued hopefully,

are wearing stovepipe hats and swallow-tail-coats and going as ring-masters, but we're all out of tall hats. I can let you have some crape hair for a moustache. Want something stinctive? Something? Let's see. Well, we have a lion's head and a goose and a camel. Camel? The idea seized Perry's imagination,

gripped it fiercely. Yes, but it needs two people. Camel, that's the idea. Let me see it. The camel was produced from his resting place on a top shelf. At first glance he appeared to consist entirely of a very gaunt, cadaverous head and a sizable hump, but on being spread out he was found to possess

a dark, brown, unwholesome-looking body made of thick, cottony cloth. You see, it takes two people, explained Mrs. Nolak, holding the camel in frank admiration if you have a friend he could be part of it you see there's sort of pants for two people one pairs for the fellow in front and the other pair for the fellow in back the fellow in front does the looking out through these here eyes and the fellow in back he's just got to stoop over and follow the front fellow around "'Put it on,' commanded Perry. "'Obediently Mrs. Nolak put her tabby-cat face inside the camel's head "'and turned it from side to side ferociously.

"'Perry was fascinated. "'What noise does a camel make?' "'What?' asked Mrs. Nolak as her face emerged, somewhat smudgy. "'Oh, what noise? He's sort of braze.' "'Let me see it in a mirror.' "'Before a wide mirror, Perry tried on the head and turned from side to side appraisingly. in the dim light the effect was distinctly pleasing the camel's face was a study in pessimism decorated with numerous abrasions and it must be admitted that his coat was in that state of general negligence peculiar to camels in fact he needed to be cleaned and pressed but distinctive he certainly was he was majestic he would have attracted attention in any gathering if only by his melancholy cast of feature and the look of hunger lurking round his shadowy eyes

you see you have to have two people said mrs noelack again perry tentatively gathered up the body and legs and wrapped them about him tying the hind legs as a girdle round his waist the effect on the whole was bad it was even irreverent like one of those medieval pictures of a monk changed into a beast by the administrations of satan at the very best the ensemble resembled the humpbacked cow sitting on her haunches among blankets don't look like anything at all objected perry gloomily no said mrs nollack you see you got to have two people a solution flashed upon perry you got a date to-night oh i couldn't possibly oh come on said perry encouragingly sure you can here be good sport and climb into these hind legs with difficulty he located them and extended their yawning depths ingratiatingly but mrs nolak seemed loathe she backed perversely away oh no come on you can be the front if you want to or we'll flip a coin make it worth your while mrs nolak set her lips firmly together now you just stop she said with no coyness implied none of the gentlemen ever acted up this way before my husband you got a husband demanded perry where is he he's home what's telephone number After considerable party, he obtained the telephone number pertaining to the Nolak Penates and got into communication with that small, weary voice he had heard once before that day.

But Mr. Nolak, though taken off his guard and somewhat confused by Perry's brilliant flow of logic, stuck staunchly to his point. He refused firmly, but with dignity, to help out Mr. Parkhurst in the capacity of back part of a camel. Having rung off, or rather having been wrung off on, Terry sat down on a three-legged stool to think it over. He named over to himself those friends on whom he might call, and then his mind paused as Betty Madill's name, hazily and sorrowfully, occurred to him.

He had a sentimental thought. He would ask her. Their love affair was over, but she could not refuse this last request. Surely it was not much to ask to help him keep up his end of social obligation for one short night, and if she insisted she could be the front part of the camel, and he would go as the back. His magnanimity pleased him. His mind even turned to rosy-colored dreams

of a tender reconciliation inside the camel, there hidden away from all the world. Now you'd better decide right off! The bourgeois voice of Mrs. Nolak broke in upon his mellow fancies and roused him to action. He went to the phone and called up the Medill house. Miss Betty was out,

had gone out to dinner. Then, when all seemed lost, the camel's back wandered curiously into the store. He was a dilapidated individual with a cold in his head and a general trend about him of downwardness. His cap was pulled down low on his head and his chin was pulled down low on his chest. His coat hung down to his shoes.

He looked run down, down at the heels, and Salvation Army to the contrary, down and out. He said that he was the taxi cab driver that the gentleman had hired at the Clarendon Hotel. He had been instructed, to wait outside but he had waited some time and a suspicion had grown upon him that the gentleman had gone out the back way with purpose to defraud him gentlemen sometimes did so he had come in he sank down under the three-legged stool want to go to a party demanded perry sternly i gotta work answered the taxi driver lugubriously i gotta keep my job it's a very good party it's a very good job come on urged pey be a good fella see it's pretty he held the camel up and the taxi driver looked at it cynically

huh perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth see he cried enthusiastically holding up a selection of folds this is your part you don't even have to talk all you have to do is to walk and sit down occasionally you do all the sitting down think of it i'm on my feet all the time and you can sit down some of the time. The only time I can sit down is when we're lying down, and you can sit down when, oh, any time, see? What's that thing? demanded the individual dubiously. A shroud? Not at all, said Perry indignantly. It's a camel. Huh? Then Perry mentioned a sum of money, and the conversation left the land of grunts and assumed a practical tinge. Perry and the taxi driver tried on the camel in front of the mirror. You can't see it, explained Perry, peering anxiously out through the eye-holes.

But honestly, old man, you look simly great. Honestly! A grunt from the hump acknowledged this somewhat dubious compliment. Honestly, you look great, repeated Perry enthusiastically. Move around a little. The hind legs moved forward, giving the effect of a huge cat camel, hunching his back preparatory to a spring. No, move sideways. The camel's hips went neatly out of joint. A hula dancer would have rioted an envy. Good, isn't it? demanded Perry, turning to Mrs. Nolak for approval.

It looks lovely, agreed Mrs. Nolak. We'll take it, said Perry. The bundle was stowed under Perry's arm and they left the shop. Go to the party, he commanded as he took his seat in the back. What party? Fancy dress party. Whereabouts is it? This presented a new problem. Perry tried to remember, but the names of all those who had given parties during the holidays danced confusedly before his eyes. He could ask Mrs. Nolak, but on looking out the window, he saw that the shop was dark. Mrs. Nolak had already faded out, a little black smudge far down the snowy street. "'Drive of town,' directed Perry with fine confidence.

"'If you see a party, stop. Otherwise I'll tell you when we get there.' He fell into a hazy daydream, and his thoughts wandered again to Betty. He imagined vaguely that they had had a disagreement because she refused to go to the party as the back part of the camel. He was just slipping off into a chilly doze when he was wakened by the taxi driver opening the door and shaking him by the arm. Here we are, maybe. Perry looked out sleepily. A striped awning led from the curb up to a spreading gray stone house, from which issued the low, drummy wine of expensive jazz.

He recognized the Howard Tate House. "'Sure,' he said emphatically. "'Asset. Tate's party tonight. Sure, everybody's going.' "'Say,' said the individual anxiously after another look at the awning, "'you sure these people ain't going to romp on me for coming here?' Perry drew himself up with dignity. "'If anyone says anything to you, just tell him you're part of my costume.' The visualization of himself as a thing rather than a person seemed to assure the individual.

"'All right,' he said, reluctantly. Perry stepped out under the shelter of the awning and began unrolling the camel. Let's go, he commanded. Several minutes later, a melancholy, hungry-looking camel, emitting clouds of smoke from his mouth and from the tip of his noble hump, might have been seen crossing the threshold of the Howard Tate residence, passing a startled footman without so much as a snort, and heading directly for the main stairs that led up to the ballroom. The beast walked with a peculiar gate which buried between an uncertain lockstep and a stampede, but can best be described by the word halting.

The camel had a halting gate, and as he walked, he alternately elongated and contracted like a gigantic concertina. 3. The Howard Taites are, as everyone who lives in Toledo knows, the most formidable people in town. Mrs. Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd before she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect that conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of American aristocracy. The Taites have reached the stage where they talk about pigs and farms, and look at you icy-eyed if you are not amused. They have begun to prefer retainers rather

than friends as dinner guests, spend a lot of money in a quiet way, and having lost all sense of competition, are in process of growing quite dull. The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though all ages were represented, the dancers were mostly from school and college. The younger married crowd was at the Townsend's Circus Ball, up at the Talley-ho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside the ballroom, following Millicent around with her eyes, and beaming whenever she caught her eye. Beside her were two middle-aged sycophants who were saying what a perfectly exquisite child Millicent was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was grasped firmly by the skirt, and her youngest daughter Emily, aged eleven, hurled herself with an

oof into her mother's arms. Why, Emily, what's the trouble? Mama, said Emily, wild-eyed but voluble. There's something out on the stairs. What? There's a thing out on the stairs, Mama. I think it's a big dog, Mama, but it doesn't look like a dog. What do you mean, Emily?

The sycophants waved their heads sympathetically. Mama, it looks like a... camel. Mrs. Tate laughed. You saw a mean old shadow, dear, that's all. No, I didn't. It was some kind of thing, Mama, big. I was going downstairs to see if there were any more people, and this dog or something he was coming upstairs. Kind of funny, Mama, like he was lame, and then he saw me and gave a sort of growl, and then he slipped at the top of the landing, and I ran. Mrs. Tate's laugh faded. The child must have seen something. she said. The sycophants agreed that the child must have seen something, and suddenly all three women

took an instinctive step away from the door as the sounds of muffled steps were audible just outside. And then three startled gasps rang out as a dark form rounded the corner, and they saw what was apparently a huge beast looking down at them hungrily. Oof! cried Mrs. Tate. Oh, cried the ladies in a chorus. The camel suddenly humped his back, and the gasps turned to shrieks. Oh, look! What is it?

The dancing stopped, but the dancers hurrying over got quite a different impression of the invader. In fact, the young people immediately suspected that it was a stunt. A hired entertainer come to amuse the party. The boys in long trousers looked at it rather disdainfully and sauntered over with their hands in their pockets, feeling that their intelligence was being insulted. But the girls uttered little shouts of glee.

It's a camel! Well, if he isn't the funniest, the camel stood there uncertainly swaying slightly from side to side and seeming to take in the room in a careful appraising glance then as if he had come to an abrupt decision he turned and ambled swiftly out the door mr howard tate had just come out of the library on the lower floor and was standing chatting with a young man in the hall suddenly they heard the noise of shouting upstairs and almost immediately a succession of bumping sounds followed by the precipitous appearance at the foot of the stairway of a large brown beast that seemed to be going somewhere in a great hurry. Now what the devil, said Mr. Tate, starting. The beast picked itself up, not without dignity, and affecting an air of extreme nonchalance,

as if he had just remembered an important engagement, started at a mixed gate toward the front door. In fact, his front legs began casually to run. See here now, said Mr. Tate sternly. Here, grab it, Butterfield, grab it. The young man enveloped the rear of the camel in a pair of compelling arms, and realizing that further locomotion was impossible, the front end submitted to capture and stood resignedly in a state of some agitation. By this time a flood of young people was pouring downstairs, and Mr. Tate, suspecting everything from an ingenious burglar to an escaped lunatic, gave crisp directions to the young man.

"'Hold him. Lead him in here, we'll soon see.' The camel consented to be led into the library, and Mr. Tate, after locking the door, took a revolver from the table-drawer and a table-drawer, and a table-drawer, instructed the young man to take the thing's head off. Then he gasped and returned the revolver to its hiding place. Well, Perry Parkhurst, he exclaimed in amazement. Got the wrong party, Mr. Tate, said Perry sheepishly. Hope I didn't scare you. Well, you gave us a thrill, Perry. Realization dawned on him. You're bound for the Towns and Circus Ball. That's the general idea. Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst, Then turning to Perry. Butterfield is staying with us for a few days. I got a little mixed up, mumbled Perry.

I'm very sorry. Perfectly all right, most natural mistake in the world. I've got a clown rig and I'm going down there myself after a while. He turned to Butterfield. Better change your mind and come down with us. The young man demurred. He was going to bed. Have a drink, Perry, suggested Mr. Tate.

Thanks, I will. and say continued Tate quickly. I've forgotten all about your friend here, he indicated the rear part of the camel. I didn't mean to seem discourteous. Is it anyone I know? Bring him out. It's not a friend, explained Perry hurriedly. I just rented him. Does he drink? Do you? demanded Perry, twisting himself tortuously around. There was a faint sound of a scent. Sure it does, said Mr. Tate heartily. A really efficient camel ought to be able to drink enough

so it had last him three days. I tell you, said Perry anxiously, he isn't exactly dressed up enough to come out. If you give me the bottle, I can hand it back to him and he can take his inside. From under the cloth was audible the enthusiastic smacking sound inspired by this suggestion.

When a butler had appeared with bottles, glasses, and siphon, one of the bottles was handed back. Thereafter, the silent partner could be heard imbibing long potations at frequent intervals. thus passed a benign hour. At ten o'clock Mr. Tate decided that they'd better be starting. He donned his clown's costume. Perry replaced the camel's head, and side by side they traversed on foot the single block between the Tate House and the Talleyho Club.

The circus ball was in full swing. A great tent fly had been put up inside the ballroom, and round the walls had been built rows of booths representing the various attractions of a circus sideshow. But these were now vacated and over the floor swarmed a shouting, laughing medley of youth, and clowns, bearded ladies, acrobats, bareback riders, ringmasters, tattooed men and charioteers. The town's ends had determined to assure their party of success, so a great quantity of liquor had been surreptitiously brought over from their house and was now flowing freely. A green ribbon ran along the wall, completely round the ballroom, with pointing arrows alongside and signs which instructed the uninitiated to follow the green line.

The green line led down to the bar where waited pure punch and wicked punch and plain dark green bottles. On the wall above the bar was another arrow, red and very wavy, and under it the slogan, Now follow this. But even amid the luxury of costume and high spirits represented there, the entrance of the camel created something of a stir, and Perry was immediately surrounded by a curious, laughing crowd attempting to penetrate the identity of this beast that stood by the wide doorway eyeing the dancers with his hungry melancholy gaze and then perry saw betty standing in front of a booth talking to a comic policeman she was dressed in the costume of an egyptian snake charmer her tawny hair was braided and drawn through brass rings the effect crowned with a glittering oriental tiara her fair face was stained to a warm olive glow and on her arm and the half-moon of her neck writh painted serpents with single eyes of venomous green. Her feet were in sandals and her skirt was slit to the knees so that when she walked one caught a glimpse of other slim

serpents painted just above her bare ankles. Mound about her neck was a glittering cobra. All together a charming costume, one that caused the more nervous among the older women to shrink away from her when she passed and the more troublesome ones to make great talk about, shouldn't be allowed and perfectly disgraceful but perry peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel saw only her face radiant animated and glowing with excitement and her arms and shoulders whose mobile expressive gestures made her always the outstanding figure in any group he was fascinated and his fascination exercised a sobering effect on him with a growing clarity the events of the day came back rage rose within him and with a half-formed intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward her or rather he elongated slightly for he had neglected to issue the preparatory command necessary to locomotion but at this point fickle kismet who for a day had played with him bitterly and sardonically decided to reward him in full for the amusement he had afforded her kismet turned the tawny eyes of the snake charmer to the camel kismet led her to lean toward the man beside her and say who's that that camel learned if i know but a little man named warburton who knew it all found it necessary to hazard an opinion it came with mr tait i think part of it's probably warren but the architect from new york who's visiting the tates something stirred in betty middill that age-old interest of the provincial girl in the visiting man oh she said casually after a slight pause at the end of the next dance betty and her partner finished up within a few feet of the camel with the informal audacity that was the keynote of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel's nose hello old camel the camel stirred uneasily

you afraid of me said betty lifting her eyebrows in reproof don't be you see i'm a snake charmer but i'm pretty good at camels too the camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about beauty and the beast mrs townsend approached the group well mr butterfield she said helpfully i wouldn't have recognized you perry bowed again and smiled gleefully behind his mask and who is this with you she inquired oh said perry his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite unrecognizable. "'He isn't the fellow, Mrs. Townsend. He's just part of my costume.' Mrs. Townsend laughed and moved away. Perry turned again to Betty. "'So,' he thought, this is how much she cares. On the very day of our final rupture she starts a flirtation with another man, an absolute stranger. On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his head suggestively toward the hall,

making it clear that he desired her to leave her partner and accompany him. "'By-bye, Russ,' she called to her partner. "'This old camel's got me. Where are we going, Prince of Beasts?' The noble animal made nobre joined her, but stalked gravely along in the direction of a secluded nook on the side stairs. There she seated herself, and the camel, after some seconds of confusion, which included rough orders and sounds of a heated dispute going on in his interior, placed himself beside her, his hind legs stretching out uncomfortably across two steps. Well, old egg, said Betty cheerfully.

How do you like our happy party? The old egg indicated that he liked it by rolling his head ecstatically and executing a gleeful kick with his hoofs. This is the first time that I ever had a tate-a-tate with a man's valet around, she pointed to the hind legs, or whatever that is. Oh, mumbled Perry, he's deaf and blind. I should think you'd feel rather handicapped. you can't very well toddle even if you want to the camel hung his head lugubriously i wish you'd say something continued betty sweetly say you like me camel say you think i'm beautiful say you'd like to belong to a pretty snake charmer

the camel would will you dance with me camel the camel would try betty devoted half an hour to the camel she devoted at least half an hour to all visiting men it was usually sufficient when she approached a new man the colon the colonel debutants were accustomed to scatter right and left like a close column deploying before a machine gun and so to Perry Parkhurst was awarded the unique privilege of seeing his love as others saw her he was flirted with violently four this paradise of frail foundation was broken into by the sounds of a general ingress to the ballroom the cotillion was beginning Betty and the camel joined the crowd her brown hand resting lightly on his shoulder, defiantly symbolizing her complete adoption of him. When they entered, the couples were already seating themselves at tables round like walls,

and Mrs. Townsend, resplendent as a super bareback rider with rather two rotund calves, was standing in the center with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At a signal to the band, everyone rose and began to dance. "'Isn't it just slick?' sighed Betty. "'Do you think you can possibly dance?' perry nodded enthusiastically he felt suddenly exuberant after all he was here incognito talking to his love he could wink patronizingly at the world so perry dance the cotillian i say dance but that is stretching the word far beyond the wildest dreams of the jazziest terpsichorian he suffered his partner to put her hands on his helpless shoulders and pull him here and there over the floor while he hung his huge head docile over her shoulder and made futile dumb emotion with his feet. His hind legs danced in a manner all their own, chiefly by hopping first on one foot

and then on the other. Never being sure whether dancing was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by going through a series of steps whenever the music started playing. So the spectacle was frequently presented of the front part of the camel standing at ease in the rear, keeping up a constant energetic motion calculated to rouse a sympathetic perspiration and any soft-hearted observer. He was frequently favored. He danced first with a tall lady covered with straw who announced jovially that she was a bale of hay and coyly begged him not to eat her. "'I'd like to. You're so sweet,' said the camel gallantly. Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of, "'Men up! He lumbered ferociously for Betty, with the cardboard weinerwurst, or the photograph of

the bearded lady, or whatever the favor chance to be. Sometimes he reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful and resulted in intense interior arguments. For heaven's sake, Perry would snarl, fiercely between his clenched teeth. Give it a little pep. I could have gotten her that time if you'd picked your feet up. Oh, give me a little warning. I did, darn you. I can't see a doggone thing in here. All you have to do is follow me. It's just like dragging a load of sand around to walk with you. Maybe you want to try back here?

You shut up. If these people found you in this room, they'd give you the the worst beating you ever had they'd take your taxi license away from you perry surprised himself by the ease with which he made this monstrous threat but it seemed to have a soporific influence on his companion for he gave out an ah gwan and subsided into abashed silence the ringmaster mounted to the top of the piano and waved his hand for silence prizes he cried gather round yea prizes self-consciously the circle swayed forward. The rather pretty girl who had mustered the nerve to come as a bearded lady trembled with excitement, thinking to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The man who had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted on him skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing furiously when anyone told him he was sure to get it. Lady and gent performers of the circus, announced the ringmaster jovially.

I am sure we will all agree that a good time has been had by all. we will now bestow honour where honour is due by bestowing the prizes mrs townsend has asked me to bestow the prizes now fellow performers the first prize is for that lady who has displayed this evening the most striking becoming at this point the bearded lady sighed resignedly and original costume here the bale of hay pricked up her airs now i am sure that the decision which has been agreed upon will be unanimous with all here present The first prize goes to Miss Betty Madill, the charming Egyptian snake charmer. There was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine, and Miss Betty Middell, blushing beautifully through her olive paint, was passed up to receive her award. With a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a huge bouquet of orchids. And now, he continued, looking round him, the other prize is for that man who has the most

amusing and original costume. This prize is for that man. goes without dispute to a guest in our midst a gentleman who is visiting here but whose stay we all hope will be long and merry in short to the noble camel who has entertained us all by his hungry look and his brilliant dancing throughout the evening he ceased and there was a violent clapping and yaying for it was a popular choice the prize a large box of cigars was put aside for the camel as he was anatomically unable to accept it in person and now continued the ringmaster we will wind up the cotillion with the marriage of mirth to folly form for the grand wedding march the beautiful snake charmer and the noble camel in front Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive arm around the camel's neck. Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men of Borneo, and armless wonders. Many of them well in their cups,

all of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and color round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under bizarre wigs and barbaric paint. The voluptuous cords of the wedding march done in blasphemous syncopation issued in a delirious blend from the trombones and saxophones and the march began aren't you glad camel demanded betty sweetly as they stepped off aren't you glad we're going to be married and you're going to belong to the nice snake charmer ever afterward the camel's front legs pranced expressing excessive joy minister minister where's the minister cried voices out of the revel who's going to be the clergyman the head of the head of the minister of Jumbo, obese Negro, waiter at the Tally Ho Club for many years appeared rashly through a half-opened pantry door. Oh, Jumbo! Get old Jumbo! He's the fella! Come on, Jumbo! How about marrying us a couple? Yay! Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his apron and escorted to a raised dais at the head of the ball. There his collar was removed and replaced back-side-forward

with ecclesiastical effect. The parade separated into two lines. leaving an aisle for the bride and groom. Lordy man, roared old Jumbo. I got old Bible and everything, show enough. He produced a battered Bible from an interior pocket. Yay, Jumbo's got a Bible. Razor two, I'll bet. Together the snake charmer and the camel ascended the cheering aisle

and stopped in front of Jumbo. Where's your license, camel? A man nearby prodded Perry. Give him a piece of paper, anything'll do. Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a folded paper, and pushed it out through the camel's mouth, holding it upside down. Jumbo pretended to scan it earnestly. This year's a special camel's license, he said. Get your ring, ready, camel. Inside the camel,

Perry turned round and addressed his worst half. Give me a ring for heaven's sake. I ain't got none, protested a weary voice. You have. I saw it. I ain't going to take it off in my hand. If you don't, they'll kill you. There was a gag. and Perry felt a huge affair of rhinestone and brass inserted into his hand. Again he was nudged from the outside. Speak up! I do, cried Perry quickly. He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone, and even in this burlesque the sound thrilled him. Then he pushed the rhinestone through a tear in the camel's coat and was slipping it on her finger, muttering ancient and historic words after

jumbo. He didn't want anyone to know about this ever. His one idea was to slip away without having to disclose his identity, for Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret well. A dignified young man, Perry, and this might injure his infant law practice. Embrace the bride! Unmask camel and kiss her! Instinctively, his heart beat high as Betty turned to him laughingly and began to strike the cardboard muzzle. He felt his self-control giving way. He longed to surround her with his arms and declare his identity and kiss those lips that smiled only a foot away, when suddenly the laughter and applause round them died off and a curious hush fell over the hall. Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo had given

bent to a huge, hello, in such a startled voice that all eyes were bent on him. Hello, he said again. He had turned round the camel's marriage license, which he had been holding upside down, produced spectacles, and was studying it agonizingly. "'Why,' he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence, "'his words were heard plainly by everyone in the room. "'This year's show enough marriage permit.' "'What?' "'Huh? Say it again, Jumbo.

"'Sure you can read?' "'Jumbo waved them to silence, "'and Perry's blood burned a fire in his veins "'as he realized the break he had made. "'Yes, sir,' repeated Jumbo. "'This year's a show enough license, "'and the party's concerned one of them is this year young, lady Miss Betty Madill and others Mr. Perry Parkhurst. There was a general gasp and a low

rumble broke out as all eyes fell on the camel. Betty shrank away from him quickly, her tawny eyes giving out sparks of fury. Is you, Mr. Parkhurst, you camel? Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment. His cardboard face, still hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous jumbull. y'all better speak up said jumbo slowly this year's a mighty serious matter outside my duties at this club i happens to be a show enough minister in the first colored baptist church it done took to me as though y'all is gone and got married five the scene that followed will go down forever in the annals of the tally-ho club stout matrons fainted one hundred percent americans swore why thy debutants babbled in lightning groups, instantly formed and instantly dissolved, and a great buzz of chatter, virulent, yet oddly subdued, hummed through the chaotic ballroom.

Feverish youths swore they would kill Perry or Jumbo or themselves or someone, and the Baptist preacher was besieged by a tempestuous covey of clamorous amateur lawyers, asking questions, making threats, demanding precedents, ordering the bonds an old, and especially trying to ferret out hint of prearrangement in what had occurred. In the corner Mrs. Townsend was crying softly on the shoulder of Mr. Howard Tate, who was trying vainly to comfort her. They were exchanging, all my faults, volubly and voluminously. Outside, on a snow-covered walk, Mr. Cyrus Medell, the aluminum man, was being paced slowly up and down between two brawny charioteers,

giving vent now to a string of unrepeatables, now to wild pleadings that they'd just let him get at jumbo. He was facetiously attired for the evening as a wild man of Borneo, and the most exacting stage manager would have acknowledged any improvement in casting the part to be quite impossible. Meanwhile, the two principals held the real center of the stage. Betty Madill, or was it Betty Parkhurst? Stormed furiously, was surrounded by the planar girls, the prettier ones were too busy talking about her to pay much attention to her, and over on the other side the hall stood the camel, still intact except for his headpiece which dangled pathetically on his chest. Perry was earnestly engaged in making protestations of his innocence to a ring of angry,

puzzled men. Every few minutes, just as he had apparently proved his case, someone would mention the marriage certificate, and the inquisition would begin again. A girl named Marion Cloud, considered the second-best bell of Toledo, changed the gist of the situation by our remarks, she said to Betty. Well, she said maliciously, it'll all blow over, dear. The courts will annul it without question. Betty's angry tears dried miraculously in her eyes.

Her lips shut tight together, and she looked stonily at Marion. Then she rose, and, scattering her sympathizers right and left, walked directly across the room to Perry, who stared at her in terror. Again silence crept down upon the room. Will you have the decency? to grant me five minutes conversation, or wasn't that included in your plans?'

He nodded, his mouth unable to form words. Indicating coldly that he was to follow her, she walked out into the hall with her chin up-tilted and headed for the privacy of one of the little card-rooms. Perry started after her, but was brought to a jerky halt by the failure of his hind legs to function. "'You stay here,' he commanded savagely. "'I can't,' wind a voice from the hump, unless you get out first and let me out. perry hesitated but unable any longer to tolerate the eyes of the curious crowd he muttered a command and the camel moved carefully from the room on its four legs betty was waiting for him well she began furiously you see what you've done you and that crazy license i told you you shouldn't have gotten it my dear girl i don't say dear girl to me save that for your real life if ever you get one after this disgraceful performance and don't try to pretend it wasn't all arranged you know you gave that color

waiter money. You know you did. Do you mean to say you didn't try to marry me? No, of course. Yes, you'd better admit it. You tried it. And now what are you going to do? You know my father's nearly crazy. It'll serve you right if he tries to kill you. He'll take his gun and put some cold stealing you. Even if this wet, this thing can be annulled, it'll hang over me all the rest of my life. Perry could not resist quoting softly, Oh, Camel, wouldn't you like to belong to the pretty snake charmer for all your— "'Shut up!' cried Betty. There was a pause.

"'Betty,' said Perry finally, "'there's only one thing to do that will get us out clear. That's for you to marry me.' "'Marry you?' "'Yes, really, it's the only—' "'You shut up! I wouldn't marry you if—' "'I know if I were the last man on earth, but if you care anything about your reputation—' "'Reputation!' she cried.

"'You're a nice one to think about my reputation.' reputation. Now? Why didn't you think about my reputation before you hired that horrible jumbo, too, too? Perry tossed up his hands hopelessly. Very well, I'll do anything you want. Lord knows I renounce all claims. But, said a new voice, I don't. Perry and Betty started, and she put her hand to her heart. For heaven's sake, what was that? It's me, said the camel's back. In a moment, Perry had whipped off the camel's skin, and a black, limp object, his clothes hanging on him damply, his hand clenched tightly on an almost empty bottle, stood defiantly before them.

"'Oh!' cried Betty, "'you brought that object in here to frighten me. You told me he was deaf. That awful person!' The camel's back sat down on a chair with a sigh of satisfaction. "'Don't talk that way about me, lady. I ain't no person. I'm your husband.' "'Husband?' The cry was rung simultaneously from Betty and Perry. why sure i'm as much your husband as that gink is the smoke didn't marry you to the camel's front he married you to the whole camel why that's my ring you got on your finger with a little yelp she snatched the ring from her finger and flung it passionately at the floor what's all this demanded perry dazedly just thought you better fix me and fix me right if you don't i'm not gonna have the same claim you got to being married to her that's bigamy said perry turning gravely to betty Then came the supreme moment of Perry's evening, the ultimate chance on which he risked his fortunes.

He rose and looked first at Betty, where she sat weakly, aghast at this new complication, and then at the individual who swayed from side to side on his chair, uncertainly, menacingly. Very well, said Perry slowly to the individual. You can have her. Betty, I'm going to prove to you that as far as I'm concerned, our marriage was entirely accidental. I'm going to renounce utterly my rights to have you as my wife, and give you to the man whose ring you wear, your lawful husband. There was a pause, and four horror-stricken eyes were turned on him. "'Good-bye, Betty,' he said brokenly.

"'Don't forget me in your new-found happiness. "'I'm going to leave for the far west on the morning train. "'Think of me, kindly, Betty.' With a last glance at them he turned and his head rested on his chest as his hand touched the door-knob. "'Good-bye,' he repeated. "'He turned the doorknob. but at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hare precipitated themselves violently toward him oh perry don't leave me perry perry take me with you her tears flowed damply on his neck calmly he folded his arms about her

i don't care she cried i love you and if you can wake up a minister at this hour and have it done over again i'll go west with you over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part of the camel and they exchanged a particularly subtle esoteric sort of wink that only true camels can understand end of section three read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggy bark dot blog dot com section three of tales of the jazz age by f scott fitzgerald this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins may day part one there had been a war fought and won and the great city of the conquering people was crossed with triumphal arches and vivid with thrown flowers of white red and rose all through the long spring days the returning soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the strump of drums and the joyous resonant wind of the brasses while merchants and clerks left their bickering and figurings and crowding to the windows turned their white bunched faces gravely upon the passing battalions never had there been such splendour in the great city for the victorious war had brought plenty in its train and the merchants had flocked thither from the south and west with their households to taste of all the luscious feasts and witness the lavish entertainments prepared and to buy for their women furs against the next winter and bags of golden mesh and baricoloured slippers of silk and silver and rose satin and cloth of gold so gaily and noisily were the peace and prosperity impending hymned by the scribes and poets of the conquering people that more and more spenders had gathered from the provinces to drink the wine of excitement and faster and faster did the merchants dispose of their trinkets and slippers until they sent up a mighty cry for more trinkets and more slippers in order that they might give in barter what was demanded of them

some even of them flung up their hands helplessly shouting alas i have no more slippers and alas i have no more trinkets may heaven help me for i know not what i shall do but no one listened to their great outcry for the throngs were far too busy day by day the foot-soldiers trod jauntily the highway and all exulted because the young men returning were pure and brave sound of tooth and pink of cheek and the young women of the land were virgins and comely both of face and figure so during all this time there were many adventures that happened in the great city and of these several or perhaps one are here set down. At nine o'clock in the morning of the 1st of May, 1919, a young man spoke to the room clerk at the Biltmore Hotel, asking if Mr. Philip Dean were registered there, and if so could he be connected with Mr. Dean's rooms. The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He was small, slender, and darkly handsome. His eyes were framed above with unusually long eyelashes, and below with the blue semicircle of ill health. This latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow, which

colored his face like a low, incessant fever. Mr. Dean was staying there. The young man was directed to a telephone at the side. After a second his connection was made. A sleepy voice hallowed from somewhere above. "'Mr. Dean?' This very eagerly. "'It's Gordon, Phil. It's Gordon, Starrett. I'm downstairs. I heard you were in New York and I had a hunch you'd be here. The sleepy voice became gradually enthusiastic. Well, how was Gordy, old boy? Well, he certainly was surprised and tickled. Would

Gordy come right up for Pete's sake? A few minutes later, Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pajamas, opened his door, and the two young men greeted each other with a half-embarrassed exuberance. They were both about 24, Yale graduates of the same year before the war, but there the resemblance stopped abruptly. Dean was blonde, ruddy, and rugged under his thin pajamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He smiled frequently, showing large and prominent teeth. I was going to look you up, he cried enthusiastically. I'm taking a couple of weeks off. If you'll sit down a sec, I'll be right with you. Going to take a shower. As he vanished into the bathroom, his visitor's dark eyes roved nervously

around the room, resting for a moment on a great English traveling bag in the corner, and on a family of thick silk shirts littered on the chairs amid impressive neckties and soft woolen socks. Gordon rose, and picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute examination. It was a very heavy silk, yellow with a pale blue stripe, and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared involuntarily at his own shirt cuffs. They were ragged and linty at the edges and sole. to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he held his coat sleeves down and worked the frayed shirt-cuffs up till they were out of sight. Then he went to the mirror and looked at himself with listless, unhappy interest. His tie of former glory was faded and thumb-creased.

It served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes of his collar. He thought, quite without amusement, that only three years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections at college for being the best-dressed man in his class. Dean emerged from the bathroom, polishing his body. "'San an old friend of yours last night,' he remarked. "'Past her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my neck. That girl you brought up to New Haven senior year.' Gordon started. "'Hedith Braddon? That whom you mean?' "'That's the one. Damn good-looking. She's still sort of a pretty doll. You know what I mean, as if you touched her she'd smear.

He surveyed his shining self complacently in the mirror, smiled faintly, exposing a section of teeth. She must be 23 anyway, he continued. Twenty-two last month, said Gordon absently. What? Oh, last month. Well, I imagine she's down for the Gamma Cy dance. Did you know we're having a Yale Gamma Cy dance tonight at Delmonicos? You better come up, Gordy.

Half of New Haven will probably be there. I can get you an invitation. draping himself reluctantly in fresh underwear dean lit a cigarette and sat down by the open window inspecting his calves and knees under the morning sunshine which poured into the room sit down gorty he suggested and tell me all about what you've been doing and what you're doing now and everything gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed lay there inert and spiritless his mouth which habitually dropped a little open when his face was in repose became suddenly helpless and pathetic What's the matter? asked Dean quickly. Oh, God. What's the matter? Every goddamn thing in the world, he said miserably. I've absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in.

Huh? I'm all in. His voice was shaking. Dean scrutinized him more closely with a praising blue eyes. You certainly look all shot. I am. I've made a hell of a mess of everything, he paused. I'd better start at the beginning, or will it bore you? not at all go on there was however a hesitant note in dean's voice this trip east had been planned for a holiday to find gordon stirrit in trouble exasperated him a little go on he repeated and then added half under his breath get it over with well began gordon unsteadily i got back from france in february went home to harrisburg for a month then came down to new york to get a job i got one with an export kind of a short time for a month then came down to new york to get a job i got one with an export company. They fired me yesterday. Fired you? I'm coming to that, Phil. I want to tell you frankly.

You're about the only man I can turn to in a matter like this. You won't mind if I just tell you frankly, will you, Phil? Dean stiffened a bit more. The pats he was bestowing on his knees grew perfunctory. He felt vaguely that he was being unfairly saddled with responsibility. He was not even sure he wanted to be told. Though never surprised at finding Gordon Starritt in my mind. difficulty there was something in this present misery that repelled him and hardened him even though it excited his curiosity go on it's a girl hmm Dane resolved that nothing was going to spoil this trip if Gordon was going to be depressing then he'd have to see less of Gordon her name is Jewel Hudson went on the distressed

voice from the bed she used to be pure I guess up to about a year ago lived here in New York poor family her people are dead now, and she lives with an old aunt. You see, it was just about the time I met her that everybody began to come back from France and droves, and all I did was to welcome the newly arrived and go on parties with them. That's the way it started, Phil, just from being glad to see everybody and having them glad to see me. You ought to have had more sense. I know, Gordon paused, and then continued listlessly. I'm on my own now, you know, and, Phil, I can't stand being poor. then came this darn girl she sort of fell in love with me for a while and though i never intended to get so involved i'd always seem to run into her somewhere you can imagine the sort of work i was doing for these exporting people of course i always intended to draw do illustrating for magazines there's a pile of money in it

why didn't you you've got to buckle down if you want to make good suggested dean with cold formalism i tried a little but my stuff's crude i've got talent phil i can draw but I just don't know how. I ought to go to art school and I can't afford it. Well, things came to a crisis about a week ago. Just as I was down to about my last dollar, this girl began bothering me. She wants some money, claims she can make trouble for me if she doesn't get it. Can she? I'm afraid she can. That's one reason I lost my job. She kept calling up the office all the time, and that was sort of the last straw down there. She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's got me all right. I've got to have some money for her. There was an awkward pause. Gordon lay very still, his hands clenched by his side.

I'm all in, he continued, his voice trembling. I'm half crazy, Phil. If I hadn't known you were coming east, I think I'd have killed myself. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars. Dean's hands, which had been patting his bare ankles, were suddenly quiet, and the curious, uncertain playing between the two became taught and strained. After a second, Gordon continued, I bled the family until I'm ashamed to ask for another nickel. Still, Dean made no answer.

Jewel says she's got to have $200. Tell her where she can go. Yes, that sounds easy, but she's got a couple of drunken letters I wrote her. Unfortunately, she's not at all the flabby sort of person you'd expect. Dean made an expression of distaste. I can't stand that sort of woman. you ought to have kept away. I know, admitted Gordon wearily.

You've got to look at things as they are. If you haven't got money, you've got to work and stay away from women. That's easy for you to say, began Gordon, his eyes narrowing. You've got all the money in the world. I most certainly have not. My family keep darn close tab on what I spend. Just because I have a little leeway, I have to be extra careful not to abuse it. He raised the blind and let in a further flood of sunshine.

"'I'm no prig, Lord knows,' he went on deliberately. "'I like pleasure, and I like a lot of it on a vacation like this, but you're—you're an awful shape. I never heard you talk just this way before. You seem to be sort of bankrupt, morally, as well as financially.' "'Don't they usually go together?' Dean shook his head impatiently. "'There's a regular aura about you that I don't understand.

It's a sort of evil.' "'It's an air of worry in poverty and sleepless nights,' said Gordon, rather defiantly. I don't know. Oh, I admit I'm depressing. I depress myself. But my God, Phil, a week's rest and a new suit and some ready money

and I'd be like, like I was. Phil, I can draw like a streak and you know it, but half the time I haven't had the money to buy decent drawing materials, and I can't draw when I'm tired and discouraged and all in. With a little ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started. How do I know you wouldn't use it on some other woman?

"'Why rub it in?' said Gordon quietly. "'I'm not rubbing it in. I hate to see you this way.' "'Will you lend me the money, Phil?' "'I can't decide right off. That's a lot of money, and it'll be darn inconvenient for me.' "'It'll be hell for me if you can't. I know I'm whining, and it's all my own fault, but that doesn't change it. When could you pay it back?' "'This was encouraging,' Gordon considered.

It was probably wisest to be frank. of course i could promise to send it back next month but i'd better say three months just as soon as i start to sell drawings how do i know you'll sell any drawings a new hardness in dean's voice sent a faint chill of doubt over gordon was it possible that he wouldn't get the money i supposed you had a little confidence in me i did have but when i see you like this i began to wonder do you suppose if i wasn't at the end of my rope i'd come to you like this do you think i'm enjoying it he broke off and bit his lip feeling that he had better subdue the rising anger in his voice after all he was the suppliant you seem to manage it pretty easily said dean angrily you put me in the position where if i don't lend it to you i'm a sucker oh yes you do and let me tell you it you is a sucker and let me tell you it is a man you it's no easy thing for me to get hold of three hundred dollars my income isn't so big but that a slice like that won't play the deuce with it he left his chair and began to dress choosing his clothes carefully gordon stretched out his arms and clenched the edges of the bed fighting back a desire to cry out his head was splitting and whirring his mouth was dry and bitter and he could feel the fever in his blood resolving itself into innumerable regular counts like a slow dripping from a roof dean tied his tie precisely brushed his eyebrows and removed a piece of tobacco from his teeth with solemnity next he filled his cigarette case tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste-basket and settled the case in his vest pocket had breakfast he demanded no i don't eat it any more well we'll go out and have some we'll decide about that money later i'm sick of the subject i came east to have a good time let's go over to the yale club he'll go over to the yale club he'll go out and have some we'll decide about that money later i'm sick of the subject i came east to have a good time let's go over to the yale club he'll

he continued moodily, and then added with an implied reproof, "'You've given up your job, you've got nothing else to do.' "'I'd have a lot to do if I had a little money,' said Gordon pointedly. "'All for heaven's sake, dropped the subject for a while. No point in glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's some money.' He took a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. There was an added spot of color in his cheeks, and add a glow that was not fever. For an instant before they turned to go out, their eyes met,

and in that instant each found something that made him lower his own glance quickly, for in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated each other. 2. The wealthy, happy sun glittered in transient gold through the thick windows of the smart shops, lighting upon mesh bags and purses and strings of pearls in grey velvet cases, upon gaudy feather fans of many colors, upon the laces and silks of expensive dresses, upon the bad paintings and the fine period furniture in the elaborate showrooms of interior decorators. Working girls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these windows,

choosing their future boudoirs from some resplendent display, which included even a man's silk pajamas laid domestically across the bed. They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their engagement, rings, and their wedding rings, and their platinum wristwatches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera cloaks. Meanwhile, digesting the sandwiches and Sundays they had eaten for lunch. All through the crowd, there were men in uniform, sailors from the great fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with divisional insignia from Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed and finding the great city thoroughly fed up with

soldiers unless they were nicely masked into pretty formations and uncomfortable under the weight of a pack and rifle. Through this medley, Dean and Gordon wandered. The former interested, made alert by the display of humanity at its frothiest and gaudiest, the latter reminded of how often he had been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and dissipated. To Dean, the struggle was significant, young, cheerful. To Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless. In the Yale Club they met a group of their former classmates who greeted the visiting dean vociferously. Sitting in a semicircle of lounges and great chairs, they had a highball all around.

Gordon found the conversation tiresome and interminable. They lunched together en masse, warmed with liquor as the afternoon began. They were all going to the Gamma-Sai dance that night. It promised to be the best party since the war. "'Eadeth Braden's coming,' said someone to Gordon. "'Didn't she used to be an old flame of yours? "'Aren't you both from Harrisburg?' "'Yes,' he tried to change the subject.

"'I see her brother occasionally. "'He's sort of a socialistic nut, "'runs a paper or something here in New York.' "'Not like his gay sister, eh?' continued his eager informant. "'Well, she's coming to-night "'with a junior named Peter Himmel.' "'Gordon was to meet Jewel Hudson at eight o'clock. "'He had promised to have some money for her.

"'Several times he glanced nervously at his wristwatch. At four, to his relief, Dean rose and announced that he was going over to Rivers Brothers to buy some collars and ties. But as they left the club, another of the party joined them, to Gordon's great dismay. Dean was in a jovial mood now, happy, expectant of the evening's party, faintly hilarious. Over in Rivers he chose a dozen neckties, selecting each one after long consultations with the other man. Did he think narrow ties were coming back and wasn't it a shame that rivers couldn't get any more welch margots and collars there never was a collar like the covington gordon was in something of a panic he wanted the money immediately and he was now inspired also with a vague idea of attending the gamasai dance he wanted to see edith edith whom he hadn't met since one romantic night at the harrisburg country club just before he went to france the affair had died drowned in the turmoil of the war and

quite forgotten in the arabesque of these three months, but a picture of her, poignant, debonair, immersed in her own inconsequential chatter, recurred to him unexpectedly and brought a hundred memories with it. It was Edith's face that he had cherished through college, with a sort of detached yet affectionate admiration. He had loved to draw her. Around his room had been a dozen sketches of her, playing golf, swimming. He could draw her pert, a resting profile with his eyes shut. They left rivers at 5.30, and parsed for a moment on the sidewalk. Well, said Dean genially, I'm all set now.

I think I'll go back to the hotel and get a shave, haircut, and massage. Good enough, said the other man. I think I'll join you. Gordon wondered if he was to be beaten after all. With difficulty, he restrained himself from turning to the man and snarling out. Go on away, damn you! In despair, he suspected that perhaps Dean had spoken to him. to him, was keeping him along in order to avoid a dispute about the money.

They went into the Biltmore. A Biltmore alive with girls, mostly from the west and south, the stellar debutants of many cities gathered for the dance of a famous fraternity of a famous university. But to Gordon they were faces in a dream. He gathered together his forces for a last appeal, was about to come out with he knew not what, when Dean suddenly excused himself to the other man and taking Gordon's arm, led him aside. "'Gardy,' he said quickly, "'I have thought the whole thing over carefully

"'and I've decided that I can't lend you that money. "'I'd like to oblige you, but I don't feel I ought to. "'It had put a crimping me for a month.' "'Gordon watched him dully, wondered why he had never before "'noticed how much those upper teeth projected. "'I'm mighty sorry, Gordon,' continued Dean, "'but that's the way it is.' "'He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out

"'seventy-five dollars in bills. "'Here,' he said, holding them out. "'Here's seventy-five. That makes eighty altogether. "'That's all the actual cash I have with me, "'besides what I'll actually spend on the trip.' "'Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, "'opened it as though it were a tongs he was holding, "'and clenched it again on the money.

"'I'll see you at the dance,' continued Dean. "'I've got to get along to the barbershop.' "'So long,' said Gordon, in a strained and husky voice. "'So long.' "'Deen began to smile, but he seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly and disappeared. But Gordon stood there, his handsome face, awry with distress, the roll of bills clenched tightly in his hand. Then, blinded by sudden tears, he stumbled clumsily down the Biltmore steps. Three. About nine o'clock of the same night,

two human beings came out of a cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life. They were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry, in a dirty town of a strange land. They were poor, friendless, tossed as driftwood from their births. They would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New Jersey, landed three days before. The taller of the two was named Carol Key, a name hinting that in his veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration,

ran blood of some potentiality. But one could stare endlessly at the long, chinless face, the dull, watery eyes and high cheekbones, without finding suggestion of either ancestral worth or native resourcefulness. His companion was swart and bandy-legged, with rat eyes and a much broken, hooked nose. His defiant air was obviously a pretense, a weapon of protection borrowed from that world of snarl and snap, of physical bluff and physical menace in which he had always lived.

His name was Gus Rose. Leaving the cafe, they sauntered Down 6th Avenue, wielding toothpicks with great gusto and complete detachment. too, asked Rose in a tone which implied that he would not be surprised if Key suggested the South Sea Islands. What do you say? We see if we can get a hold of some liquor. Prohibition was not yet. The ginger and the suggestion was caused by the law forbidding the selling of liquor to soldiers. Rose agreed enthusiastically. I got an idea, continued Key after a moment's thought. I got a brother somewhere. And New York?

Yeah, he's an old fellow. He meant that he was an elder brother. He's a waiter and a hash joint. Maybe he can get us some. I'll say he can. Believe me, I'm going to get this darn uniform off me tomorrow. Never get me in it again, neither. I'm going to get me some regular clothes. Say, maybe I'm not. As their combined finances were something less than five dollars, this intention can be taken largely as a pleasant game of words, harmless and consoling. It seemed to please both of them, however, for they reinforced it with chuckling and mention of personage's high in biblical circles, adding such further emphasis

as, "'Oh, boy, you know? And I'll say so,' repeated many times over. The entire mental pabulum of these two men consisted of an offended nasal comment extended through the years upon the institution, army, business, or poorhouse, which kept them alive, and toward their immediate superior in that institution. Until that very morning,

the institution had been the government, and the immediate superior had been the capin. From these two they had glided out and were now in the vaguely uncomfortable state before they should adopt their next bondage. They were uncertain, resentful, and somewhat ill at ease. This they hid by pretending an elaborate release,

at being out of the army and by assuring each other that military discipline should never again rule their stubborn liberty-loving wills yet as a matter of fact they would have felt more at home in a prison than in this new-found and unquestionable freedom suddenly key increased his gate rose looking up and following his glance discovered a crowd that was collecting fifty yards down the street key chuckled and began to run in the direction of the crowd rose there upon a crowd also chuckled, and his short bandy legs twinkled beside the long, awkward strides of his companion. Reaching the outskirts of the crowd, they immediately became an indistinguishable part of it. It was composed of ragged civilians, somewhat the worst for liquor, and of soldiers representing many divisions and many stages of sobriety, all clustered around a gesticulating little Jew with long black whiskers, who was waving his arms and delivering an excited but succinct harang. key and rose having wedged themselves into the approximate parquet scrutinized him with acute suspicion as his words penetrated their common consciousness

"'What have you got out of the war?' he was crying fiercely. "'Look around you! Look around you. Are you, bitch? Have you got a lot of money offered you? No, you're lucky if you're alive and got both your legs. You're lucky if you came back and find your wife ain't gone off with some other fellow that had the money to buy himself out of the war. That's when you're lucky. Who got anything out of it except J.P. Morgan and John D. Rockefeller!' At this point, the little Jew's oration was interrupted by the hostile impact of a fist upon the point of his bearded chin, and he toppled backward to a sprawl on the pavement. "'God damn, Bolshevik!' cried the big soldier Blacksmith, who had delivered the blow. There was a rumble of approval. The crowd closed in nearer.

The Jew staggered to his feet and immediately went down again before a half a dozen reaching in fists. This time he stayed down, breathing heavily, blood oozing from his lip where it was cut within and without. There was a riot of voices, and in a minute Rose and Key found themselves, flowing with the jumbled crowd down sixth avenue under the leadership of a thin civilian in a slouch hat and the brawny soldier who had summarily ended the oration the crowd had marvellously swollen to formidable proportions and a stream of more noncommittal citizens followed it along the sidewalks lending their moral support by intermittent huzzas where we going yelled key to the man next to him his neighbor pointed up to the leader in the slouch hat that guy knows where there's a lot of of them we're going to show them we're going to show them whispered key delightedly to rose who repeated the phrase raptiously to a man on the other side down sixth avenue swept the procession joined here and there by soldiers and marines and now and then by civilians who came up with

the inevitable cry that they were just out of the army themselves as if presenting it as a card of admission to a newly formed sporting and amusement club then the procession swerved down across street and headed for Fifth Avenue, and the word filtered here and there that they were bound for a red meeting at Tolliver Hall. Where is it? The question went up the line, and a moment later the answer floated back. Tolliver Hall was down on Tenth Street. There was a bunch of other soldiers who was going to break it up and was down there now. But Tenth Street had a far-away sound, and at the word, a general groan went up, and a score of the procession dropped out. Among these were Rose and Key,

who slowed down to a saunter and let the more enthusiastic sweep on by. I'd rather get some liquor, said Key, as they halted and made their way to the sidewalk amid cries of shell-hole and quitters. Does you rather work around here? asked Rose, assuming the air of one passing from the superficial to the eternal. He oughta, replied Key. I ain't seen him for a couple of years. I've been out to Pennsylvania since. Maybe he don't work at night anyhow. It's rough. right along here. He can get us some all right if he ain't gone."

They found the place after a few minutes, patrol of the street, a shoddy tablecloth restaurant between Fifth Avenue and Broadway. Here Key went inside to inquire for his brother George while Rose waited on the sidewalk. "'He ain't here no more,' said Key, emerging. "'He's a waiter up to Delmonico's.' Rose nodded wisely as if he'd expected as much. One should not be surprised at a capable man changing jobs occasionally. He knew a waiter once. There ensued a long conversation, as they waited, as to whether waiters made more in actual wages than in tips. It was decided that it depended on the social tone of the joint, wherein the waiter labored. After having given

each other vivid pictures of millionaires dining at Delmonico's and throwing away fifty-dollar bills after their first quarter of champagne, both men thought privately of becoming waiters. In fact, key's narrow brow was secreting a resolution to ask his brother to get him a job a waiter can drink up all the champagne those fellows leaving bottles suggested rose with some relish and then added as an afterthought oh boy by the time they reached delmonico's it was half-past ten and they were surprised to see a stream of taxis driving up to the door one after the other and emitting marvellous hatless young ladies each one attended by a stiff young gentleman in evening clothes "'It's a party,' said Rose with some awe. "'Maybe we better not go in. He'll be busy.' "'No, I won't. He'll be all right.' After some hesitation they entered what appeared to them to be the least elaborate door,

and, indecision falling upon them immediately, stationed themselves nervously in an inconspicuous corner of the small dining-room in which they found themselves. They took off their caps and held them in their hands. A cloud of gloom fell upon them, and both started when a door. door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a comet-like waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through another door on the other side. There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He turned, looked at them suspiciously, and then approached with soft cat-like steps as if prepared at any moment to turn

and flee. "'Say,' began Key, "'say, do you know my brother? He's a waiter here.' "'His name is Key.' annotated rose yes the waiter knew key he was upstairs he thought there was a big dance going on in the main ballroom he'd tell him ten minutes later george key appeared and greeted his brother with the utmost suspicion his first and most natural thought being that he was going to be asked for money george was tall and weak chinned but there his resemblance to his brother ceased the waiter's eyes were not dull they were alert and twinkling and his manner was suave and his manner was suave and his own and his own indoor and faintly superior. They exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children. He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carol had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carol. George, said the younger brother, these amenities having been disposed of,

We want to get some booze, and I won't sell us none. Can you get us some? George considered. Sure, maybe I can. It may be half an hour. though. All right, agreed Carol. We'll wait. At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair but was hailed to his feet by the indignant George.

Hey, watch out you. Can't sit down there. This room's all set for a twelve o'clock banquet. I ain't going to hurt it, said Rose resentfully. I've been through the Delauceur. Never mind, said George sternly. If the head waiter seen me here talking, he'd romp all over me. me oh the mention of the head-waiter was full explanation to the other two they fingered their overseas caps nervously and waited for a suggestion i tell you said george after a pause i got a place you can wait you just come here with me they followed him out the far door through a deserted pantry and up a pair of dark winding stairs emerging finally into a small room chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing

brushes and illuminated by a single dim electric light there he left them after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an hour with a quart of whiskey george is making money i bet said key gloomily as he seated himself on an inverted pail i bet he's making fifty dollars a week rose nodded his head and spat i bet he is too what do you say the dance was of a lot of college fellows yale college fellows yale college they both nodded solemnly at each other wonder where that crowd of soldiers is now i don't know it's too damn long walk for me me too you don't catch me walking that far ten minutes later restlessness seized them i'm going to see what's out there said rose stepping cautiously toward the other door it was a swinging door of green bays and he pushed it open a cautious inch see anything for answer rose drew in his breath sharply "'Dogone, here's some liquor, I'll say.' "'Looker?' Key joined Rose at the door and looked eagerly. "'I'll tell the world that's liquor,' he said after a moment of concentrated gazing. "'It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in, and in it was prepared a radiant feast of spirits.

There were long walls of alternating bottles set along two white-covered tables, whiskey, gin, brandy, French and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention an array of siphons in two great empty punch bowls. The room was as yet uninhabited. "'It's for this dance they're just starting,' whispered Key. "'Here the violin's playing? Say, boy, I wouldn't mind having a dance.' They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual comprehension. There was no need of feeling each other out.

"'I'd like to get my hands in a couple of those bottles,' said Rose emphatically. "'Me too.' "'Do you suppose we'd get sane?' Key considered. "'Maybe we'd better wait till they start drinking them. They got them all laid out now, and they know how many of them there are.' They debated this point for several minutes. Rose was all for getting his hands on a bottle now and tucking it under his coat before

anyone came into the room. Key, however, advocated caution. him. He was afraid he might get his brother in trouble. If they waited till some of the bottles were opened, it'd be all right to take one, and everybody'd think it was one of the college fellows. While they were still engaged in argument, George Key hurried through the room and barely grunting at them, disappeared by way of the Green Bay's door. A minute later, they heard several corks pop, and then the sound of cracking ice and splashing liquid. George was mixing the punch. The soldiers exchanged delighted grins.

Oh, boy, whispered Rose. George reappeared. Just keep low, boys, he said quickly. I'll have your stuff for you in five minutes. He disappeared through the door by which he had come. As soon as his footsteps were seated down the stairs, Rose, after a cautious look, darted into the room of delights, and reappeared with a bottle in his hand.

Here's what I say, he said as they sat radiantly digesting their first drink we'll wait till he comes up and then we'll ask him if we can't just stay here and drink what he brings us see we'll tell him we haven't got any place to drink it see then we can sneak in there whenever there ain't anybody in that their room and tuck a bottle under our coats we'll have enough to last us a couple of days see sure agreed key oh boy and if we want to we can sell it to soldiers any time we want to they were silent for a moment thinking rosily of this idea Then Key reached up and unhooked the collar of his OD coat. "'It's hot in here, ain't it?' Rose agreed earnestly. "'Hot as hell.' "'Four.' She was still quite angry when she came out of the dressing-room

and crossed the intervening parlor of politeness that opened on to the hall, angry not so much at the actual happening which was, after all, the merest commonplace of her social existence, but because it had occurred on this particular night, she had no quarrel with herself she had acted with the correct mixture of dignity and reticent pity which she always employed she had succinctly and deftly snubbed him it had happened when their taxi was leaving the biltmore hadn't gone half a block he had lifted his right arm awkwardly she was on his right side and attempted to settle it snugly around the crimson fur-trimmed opera cloak she wore this in itself had been a mistake it was inevitably more graceful for a young man attempting to embrace a young woman of whose acquiescence he was not certain to first put his far arm around her it avoided that awkward movement of raising the near arm his second faux was unconscious she had spent the afternoon at the hairdressers the idea of any calamity overtaking her hair was extremely repugnant yet as peter made his unfortunate attempt

the point of his elbow had just faintly brushed it that was his second fopat two were quite enough he had begun to murmur at the first murmur she had decided that he was nothing but a college boy edith was twenty-two and anyhow this dance first of its kind since the war was reminding her with the accelerating rhythm of its associations of something else of another dance and another man a man for whom her feelings had been little more than a sad-eyed adolescent moon Edith Braden was falling in love with her recollection of Gordon Starratt. So she came out of the dressing-room at Delmonicose and stood for a second in the doorway looking over the shoulders of a black dress in front of her at the groups of Yale men who flitted like dignified black moths around the head of the stairs. From the room she had left drifted out the heavy fragrance left by the passage to and fro of many scented young beauties, rich perfumes and the fragile memory-laden dust of fragrant powders. This odor, drifting out, acquired the tang of cigarette smoke in the hall,

and then settled sensuously down the stairs and permeated the ballroom where the Gamma Sye dance was to be held. It was an odor she knew well, exciting, stimulating, restlessly sweet, the odor of a fashionable dance. She thought of her own appearance. Her bare arms and shoulders were powdered to a creamy white. She knew they looked very soft and would gleam like milk against the black backs that were to silhouette them tonight. The hairdressing had been a success. Her reddish mass of hair was piled and crushed and creased to an arrogant marvel of mobile curves.

Her lips were finally made of deep carmine. The irises of her eyes were delicate, breakable blue, like china eyes. She was a complete, infinitely delicate, quite perfect thing of beauty, flowing in an even line from a complex coiffure to two small, slim feet. she thought of what she would say to-night at this revel faintly prestigious already by the sounds of high and low laughter and slippered footsteps and movements of couples up and down the stairs she would talk the language she had talked for many years her line made up of the current expressions bits of journalese and college slang strung together into an intrinsic hole carelessly faintly provocative delicately sentimental she stalled faintly provocative delicately sentimental she stalled faintly as she heard a girl sitting on the stairs next to her say, "'You don't know the half of it, dearie?'

As she smiled her anger melted for a moment, and closing her eyes she drew a deep breath of pleasure. She dropped her arms to her side until they were faintly touching the sleek sheath that covered and suggested her figure. She had never felt her own softness so much nor so enjoyed the whiteness of her own arms.

"'I smell sweet,' she said to herself simply, and then came another thought. "'I'm made for love.' She liked the sound of this and thought it again. Then, in inevitable succession, came her newborn riot of dreams about Gordon. The twist of her imagination, which two months before had disclosed to her

her unguessed desire to see him again, seemed now to have been leading up to this dance, this hour. For all her sleek beauty, Edith was a grave, slow-thinking girl. There was a streak in her of that same desire to ponder and of that adolescent idealism that had turned her brother's socialist,

and pacifist. Henry Braden had left Cornell, where he had been an instructor in economies, and had come to New York to pour the latest cures for incurable evils into the columns of a radical weekly newspaper. Edith, less fatuously, would have been content to cure Gordon Sterrit. There was a quality of weakness in Gordon that she wanted to take care of. There was a helplessness in him that she wanted to protect, and she wanted someone she had known a long while, someone who had loved her a long while. She was a little tired. She wanted to get married. Out of a pile of letters, half a dozen pictures and as many memories, and this weariness, she had decided that next time she saw Gordon their relations were going to be changed.

She would say something that would change them. There was this evening. This was her evening. All evenings were her evenings. Then her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn undergraduate with a hurt look and an air of strained formality who presented himself before her and bowed unusually low it was the man she had come with peter himmel he was tall and humorous with horn-rimmed glasses and an air of attractive whimsicality she suddenly rather disliked him probably because he had not succeeded in kissing her well she began are you still furious at me not at all she stepped forward and took his arm i'm sorry she said she was said softly. I don't know why I snapped out like that. I'm in a bum-humor tonight for some strange reason. I'm sorry. It's all right, he mumbled. Don't mention it. He felt disagreeably embarrassed. Was she rubbing in the fact of his late failure? It was a mistake, she continued, on the same consciously gentle key. We'll both forget it. For this he hated her. A few minutes later,

they drifted out on the floor while the dozen swaying, sighing, sighing members of the special hired jazz orchestra informed the crowded ballroom that if a saxophone and me are left alone why then to his company a man with a mustache cut in hello he began reprovingly you don't remember me i can't just think of your name she said lightly and i know you so well i'm at you up it his voice trailed this constantly off as a man with very fair hair cut in edith murmured a conventional thanks loads Cut in later, to the incognue. The very fair man insisted on shaking hands enthusiastically. She placed him as one of the numerous gyms of her acquaintance, last name a mystery. She remembered even that he had a peculiar rhythm in dancing and found as they started that she was right.

Going to be here long, he breathed confidentially. She leaned back and looked up at him. A couple of weeks. Where are you? Belthmore. Call me up someday. i mean it he assured her i will we'll go to tea so do i do a dark man cut in with intense formality you don't remember me do you he said gravely i should say i do your name's harlan nobara well i knew there were two syllables anyway you're the boy that played the ukulele so well up at howard marshall's house-party i played but not a man with prominent teeth cut in edith and half a boy that played the ukulele so well at howard marshall's house party i played but not a man with prominent teeth cut in edith and

inhaled a slight cloud of whiskey. She liked men to have had something to drink. They were so much more cheerful and appreciative and complimentary, much easier to talk to. My name's Dean, Philip Dean, he said cheerfully. You don't remember me, I know, but you used to come up to New Haven with a fellow I roomed with senior year. Gordon Sterrett. Edith looked up quickly. Yes, I went up with him twice, to the pump and slipper and the junior prom. You've seen him, of course, said Dean. carelessly. He's here tonight. I saw him just a minute ago. Edith started, yet she had felt quite sure he would be here. Why, no, I haven't. A fat man with red hair cut in.

Hello, Edith, he began. Why, hello there, she slipped, stumbled lightly. I'm sorry, dear, she murmured mechanically. She had seen Gordon, Gordon, very white and listless, leaning against the side of a doorway, smoking and looking into the ballroom. Edith could see that his face was thin and wan, that the hand he raised to his lips with a cigarette was trembling. They were dancing quite close to him now. They invite so darn many extra fellows that you—' The short man was saying. Hello, Gordon, called Edith over her partner's shoulder. Her heart was pounding wildly. His large, dark eyes were fixed on her. He took a step in her direction. Her partner turned

her away. She heard his voice bleeding, well half the stags get lit and leave before long so then a low tone at her side may i please she was dancing suddenly with gordon one of his arms was around her she felt it tight and spasmodically felt his hand on her back with the fingers spread her hand her hand-hirtchief was crushed in his why gordon she began breathlessly hello edith she slipped again was tossed forward by her recovery until her face touched the black cloth of his dinner coat. She loved him. She knew she loved him. Then for a minute there was silence while a strange feeling of uneasiness crept over her. Something was wrong. Of a sudden her heart wrenched and turned over as she realized what it was. He was pitiful and wretched, a little drunk and miserably tired. Oh, she cried involuntarily. His eyes looked down at her. She saw suddenly that they were blood-streaked and rolling uncontrollably. Gordon, she murmured. We'll sit down.

I want to sit down. They were nearly in mid-floor, but she had seen two men start toward her from opposite sides of the room, so she halted, seized Gordon's limp hand and led him bumping through the crowd, her mouth tight shut, her face a little pale under her rouge. Her eyes were trembling with tears. She found a place high up on the soft carpeted stairs, and he sat down heavily beside her. Well, he began staring at her unsteadily. I certainly am glad to see you, Edith. she looked at him without answering the effect of this on her was immeasurable for years she had seen men in various stages of intoxication from uncles all the way down to chauffeurs and her feelings had varied from amusement to disgust but here for the first time she was seized with a new feeling an unutterable horror gordon she said accusingly and almost crying you look like the devil i've had trouble edith travel all sorts of trouble don't you say anything to the family but i'm all gone to pieces i'm a mess edith his lower lip was sagging he seemed scarcely to see her can't you can't you she hesitated can't you tell me about it gordon you know i'm always interested in you she bit her lip she had intended to say something stronger but found at the end that she couldn't bring it out gordon shook his head dully i can't tell you you're a good woman i can't tell a good woman the story rot she said defiantly i think it's a perfect insult to call any one a good woman in that way it's a slam you've been drinking gordon thanks he inclined his head gravely thanks for the information why do you drink because i'm so damn miserable do you think drinking's going to make it any better what are you doing trying to reform me no i'm trying to help you gordon can't you tell me about it i'm in an office

awful mess. Best thing you can do is to pretend not to know me. Why, Gordon? I'm sorry I cut in on you. It's unfair to you. You're pure woman, and all that sort of thing. Here, I'll get someone else to dance with you. He rose clumsily to his feet, but she reached up and pulled him down beside her on the stairs. Here, Gordon, you're ridiculous. You're hurting me. You're acting like a, like a crazy man. I admit it. I'm a little crazy. Something's wrong with me, Edith. There's something left me it doesn't matter it does tell me just that i was always queer a little bit different from other boys all right in college but now it's all wrong things have been snapping inside me for four months like little hooks on a dress and it's about to come off when a few more hooks go i'm very gradually going loony he turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh and she shrank away from him what is the matter just me he was just me he was repeated. I'm going loony. This whole place is like a dream to me. This del Monaco's. As he talked,

she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light and gay and careless. A great lethargy and discouragement had come over him. Revolition seized her, followed by a faint surprising boredom. His voice seemed to come out of a great void. Edith, he said. I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist. Now I know I'm nothing. can't draw edith don't know why i'm telling you this she nodded absently i can't draw i can't do anything i'm poor as a church mouse he laughed bitterly and rather too loud i've become a damn beggar a leech on my friends i'm a failure i'm poor as hell her distaste was growing she barely nodded this time waiting for her first possible cue to rise suddenly gordon's eyes filled with tears edith he said turning to her with what was evidently a strong effort at self-control i can't tell you what it means to me to know there's one person left who's interested in me he reached out and patted her hand and involuntarily she drew it away it's mighty fine of you he repeated well she said slowly looking him in the eye any one's always glad to see an old friend but i'm sorry to see you like this gordon there was a pause while the pause while the one's always glad to see you like this gordon

there was a pause while they looked at each other and the momentary eagerness in his eyes wavered she rose and stood looking at him her face quite expressionless shall we dance she suggested coolly love is fragile she was thinking but perhaps the pieces are saved the things that hovered on lips that might have been said the new love-words the tenderness learned are treasured up for the next lover end of section three read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggy bart dot blogspot dot com section four of tales of the jazz age by f scott fitzgerald this liber vox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins may day part two five peter hemel escort to the lovely edith was unaccustomed to being snubbed having been snubbed he was hurt and embarrassed and ashamed of himself for a matter of two months he had been on special delivery terms with edith brayden and knowing that the one excuse and explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental correspondence he had believed himself quite sure of his ground he searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this attitude in the matter of a simple kiss therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the moustache he went out into the hall and making up a sentence said it over to himself several times considerably deleted this was it well if any girl ever let a man on and then jolted him she did and she has no kick coming if i go out and get beautifully boiled so he walked through the supper-room into a small room adjoining it which he had located earlier in the evening it was a room in which there were several large bowls of punch flanked by many bottles. He took a seat beside the table which held the bottles.

At the second highball, boredom, disgust, the monotony of time, the turbidity of events sank into a vague background before which glittering cobwebs formed. Things became reconciled to themselves. Things lay quietly on their shelves. The troubles of the day arranged themselves in trim formation, and at his curt wish of dismissal marched off and disappeared. and with the departure of worry came brilliant permeating symbolism edith became a flighty negligible girl not to be worried over rather to be laughed at she fitted like a figure of his own dream into the surface world forming about him he himself became in a measure symbolic a type of the continent bacchanal the brilliant dreamer at play then the symbolic mood faded and as he sipped his third highball his imagination yielded to the one of the one of the one moment the warm glow, and he lapsed into a state similar to floating on his back in pleasant water. It was at this point that he noticed that a green bay's door near him was open about two inches,

and that through the aperture a pair of eyes were watching him intently. "'Hmurmured Peter calmly. The green door closed and then opened again, a bare half-inch this time. Peekaboo!' murmured Peter. The door remained stationary, and then he became aware of a series of tense, intermittent whispers. One guy. What's he doing? He's sitting looking.

He better beat it off. We've got to get another little bottle. Peter listened while the words filtered into his consciousness. Now this, he thought, is most remarkable. He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a mystery. Effecting an elaborate carelessness, he arose and waited around the table,

then, turning quickly pulled open the green door, precipitating private rows into the room. Peter bowed. How do you do? he said. Private Rose set one foot slightly in front of the other, poised for fight, flight, or compromise. How do you do? repeated Peter politely. I'm all right.

Can I offer you a drink? Private Rose looked at him searchingly, suspecting possible sarcasm. All right, he said finally. Peter indicated a chair. Sit down. I got a friend, said Rose. I got a friend in there. He pointed to the green.

door. By all means, let's have him in. Peter crossed over, opened the door, and welcomed in private key, very suspicious and uncertain and guilty. Chairs were found, and the three took their seats around the punchbow. Peter gave them each a highball and offered them a cigarette from his case. They accepted both with some diffidence. Now, continued Peter easily, may I ask why you gentlemen prefer to lounge away your leisure hours in a room which is chiefly furnished, as far as I can see, with scrubbing brushes. And when the human race has progressed to the stage where 17,000 chairs are manufactured on every day except Sunday, he paused. Rose and Key regarded him vacantly. "'Will you tell me,' went on Peter, "'why you choose to rest yourselves on

articles intended for the transportation of water from one place to another?' At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation. And lastly, finished Peter. will you tell me why when you are in a building beautifully hung with enormous candelabra you prefer to spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light rose looked at key key looked at rose they laughed they laughed uproariously they found it was impossible to look at each other without laughing but they were not laughing with this man they were laughing at him to them a man who talked after this fashion was either raving drunk or raving crazy you are yale men i presume said Peter, finishing his highball and preparing another. They laughed again. Nah. So, I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of the university known as the Sheffield Scientific School. Nah. Hmm, well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to preserve your incognito in this, this paradise of violet blue, as the newspapers say.

No, said Key scornfully. We was just well. waiting for somebody ah exclaimed peter rising and filling their glasses very interesting had a date with a scrub lady eh they both denied this indignantly it's all right peter reassured them don't apologize a scrub lady's as good as any lady in the world kipling says any lady and judy o'grady under the skin sure said key winking broadly at rose my case for instance continued peter finishing his glass i got a good girl up here that spoiled, spoiled this darn girl I ever saw, refused to kiss me, no reason whatsoever, led me on deliberately to think, sure, I want to kiss you, and then plunk, threw me over. What's the younger generation coming to? Say, that's hard look, said Key. That's awful hard look. Oh, bye, said Rose. Have another, said Peter. We got in sort of a fight for a while, said Key after a pause,

but it was too far away. A fight? That stuff, said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. Fight them all. I was in the army. This was with a Bolshevik fella. That's stuff, exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. That's what I say. Kill Bolshevik. Exterminate them.

We're Americans, said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. Sure, said Peter. Greatest race in the world. We're all Americans. Have another! They had another. Six. At one o'clock, a special orchestra, special even in a day of special orchestras, arrived at Delmonicos, and its members, seating themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of providing music for the Gamma Sye fraternity. They were headed by a famous flute player, distinguished throughout New York for his feet

of standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played the latest jazz on his flute. During his performance the lights were extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute player, and another roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic colors over the masked dancers. Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only with debutantes, a state equivalent to the glow of a noble soul after several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her music. Her partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the colorful shifting dusk. and to her present coma it seemed as if days had passed since the dance began she had talked on many fragmentary subjects with many men she had been kissed once and made love to six times

earlier in the evening different undergraduates had danced with her but now like all the more popular girls there she had her own entourage that is half a dozen gallants had singled her out or were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty they cut in on her in regular inevitable succession several times she had seen Gordon he had been sitting a long time on the stairway with his palm to his head his dull eyes fixed at an infinite spark on the floor before him very depressed he looked and quite drunk but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly all that seemed long ago their mind was passive now her senses were lulled to trance-like sleep only her feet danced and her voice talked on in hazy sentimental banter But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her, sublimely and happily drunk. She gasped and looked up at him. Why, Peter, I'm a little stewed, Edith. Why, Peter, you're a peach, you are. Don't you think it's a bum way of doing when you're with me?

Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish sentimentality, varied with a silly spasmodic smile. "'Darland Edith,' he began earnestly, "'you know I love you, don't you?' "'You tell it well.' "'I love you, and I merely wanted you to kiss me,' he added sadly. His embarrassment, his shame were both gone. She was a most beautiful girl in whole world, most beautiful eyes like stars above.

He wanted to apologize first for, presuming to try to kiss her, second for drinking, but he'd been so discouraged because he had thought she was mad at him. The red fat man cut in and looking up at Edith smiled radiantly. Did you bring anyone? she asked. No, the red fat man was a stag. Well, would you mind? Would it be an awful bother for you to take me home tonight? This extreme diffidence was a charming affectation on Edith's part. She knew that the red fat man would immediately dissolve into a paroxysm of delight. Bother? Why, good lord, I'd be darn glad to. You know I'd be

darn glad to. Thanks, loads. You're awfully sweet. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was half past one, and as she said half past one to herself, it floated vaguely into her mind that her brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his newspaper until after 1.30 every evening. Edith turned suddenly to her current partner. What street is Delmonico's on anyway? Brite? Oh, why, Fifth Avenue, of course. I mean, what cross? I mean, what Street. Why, let's see. It's on 44th Street. This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the street and just around the corner, and it occurred to her immediately that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on him, a shimmering

marvel in her new crimson opera cloak, and cheer him up. It was exactly the sort of thing Edith reveled in doing, an unconventional jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her imagination. After an instant's hesitation, she had decided. My hair is just about to tumble entirely down, she said pleasantly to her partner. Would you mind if I go and fix it? Not at all. You're a peach. A few minutes later, wrapped in her crimson opera cloak, she flitted down a side stairs, her cheeks glowing with excitement at her little adventure.

She ran by a couple who stood at the door, a weak-chinned waiter and an over-rooged young lady in hot dispute, and opening the outer door stepped into the warm May night. Seven. The over-rooged young lady followed her with a brief, bitter glance, then turned again to the weak-chinned waiter, and took up her argument. "'You better go up and tell him, I'm here,' she said defiantly, or I'll go up myself. "'No, you don't,' said George sternly. The girl smiled sardonically. "'Oh, I don't I? Well, let me tell you I know more college fellas and more of them know me, and are glad to take me out on a party than you ever saw in your whole life."

"'Maybe so.' "'Maybe so,' she interrupted. "'Oh, it's all right for any of them like that one that just ran out. God knows where she went. It's all right for them that are asked here to come or go as they like. But when I want to see a friend, they have some cheap ham-slinging, bring me a doughnut waiter to stand here and keep me out.' "'See here,' said the elder key indignantly,

"'I can't lose my job. Maybe this fellow you're talking about doesn't want to see you.' oh he wants to see me all right anyways how could i find him in all that crowd oh he'll be there she asserted confidently you just ask anybody for gordon starrott and they'll point him out to you they all know each other those fellows she produced a mesh bag and taking out a dollar bill handed it to george here she said here's a bribe you find him and give him my message you tell him if he isn't here in five minutes i'm coming up george shook his head pessimistically considered the question for a moment wavered violent and then withdrew in less than the allotted time gordon came downstairs he was drunker than he had been early in the evening and in a different way the liquor seemed to have hardened on him like a crust he was heavy and lurching almost incoherent when he talked no jewel he said thickly came right away jewel i couldn't get that money tried my best money nothing she snapped you haven't been near me for ten days what's the matter he shook his head slowly "'And very low, Jewel. Been sick.' "'Why didn't you tell me if you were sick?

"'I don't care about the money that bad. "'I didn't start bothering you about it all "'until you began neglecting me.' "'Again he shook his head. "'Haven't been neglecting you? Not at all. "'Haven't? You haven't been near me for three weeks, "'unless you've been so drunk you didn't know what you were doing.' "'Been sick, Jewel,' he repeated, turning his eyes upon her wearily.

"'You were well enough to come and play with your society, friends here all right. You told me you'd meet me for dinner, and you said you'd have some money for me. You didn't even bother to ring me up. I couldn't get any money. Haven't I just been saying? That doesn't matter. I wanted to see you, Gordon, but you seem to prefer your somebody else. He denied this bitterly. And get your hat and come along, she suggested.

Gordon hesitated, and she came suddenly close to him and slipped her arms around his neck. Come on with me, Gordon, she said in a half-whisper. We'll go over to Devonries and have a drink. and then we can go up to my apartment." "'I can't, Jewel,' she said intensely. "'I'm sick as a dog. Well, then you oughtn't to stay here and dance.' With a glance around him in which relief and despair were mingled, Gordon hesitated.

Then she suddenly pulled him to her and kissed him with soft, pulpy lips. "'All right,' he said heavily. "'I'll get my hat.' Seven. When Edith came out into the clear blue of the May night, she found the avenue deserted. The windows of the big shops were dark. Over their doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs of the late day's splendor. Glancing down toward 42nd Street, she saw a co-mingled blur of lights from the all-night restaurants. Over on 6th

Avenue, the elevated, a flare of fire, roared across the street between the glimmering parallels of light at the station and streaked along into the crisp dark. But at 44th Street it was very quiet. Pulling her cloak close about her, Edith darted across the avenue. She started nervously as a solitary man past her and said in a horse whisper, We're bound, kiddo. She was reminded of a night in her childhood when she had walked around the block in her pajamas and a dog had howled at her from a mystery big backyard. In a minute she had reached her destination, a two-story, comparatively old building on 44th, in the upper window of which she thankfully detected a wisp of

light. it was bright enough outside for her to make out the sign beside the window the new york trumpet she stepped inside a dark hall and after a second she saw the stairs in the corner then she was in a long low room furnished with many desks and hung on all sides with file copies of newspapers there were only two occupants they were sitting at different ends of the room each wearing a green eye-shade and writing by a solitary desk-light for a moment she stood uncertainly in the door-work and then both men turned around simultaneously and she recognized her brother why edith he arose quickly and approached her in surprise removing his eye-shade he was tall lean and dark with black piercing eyes under very thick glasses they were far-away eyes that seemed always fixed just over the head of the person to whom he was talking he put his hands on her arms and kissed her cheek what is it he repeated in some alarm i was at a dance across at delmonico's henry she said excitedly and i couldn't resist tearing over to see you i'm glad you did his alertness gave way quickly to a habitual vagueness you oughtn't to be out alone at night though aught you the man at the other end of the room had been looking at them curiously but at henry's beckoning gesture he approached he was loosely fat with little twinkling eyes and having removed his collar and tie he gave the impression of a middle western farmer on a sunday after afternoon.

This is my sister, said Henry. She dropped in to see me. How do you do? said the fat man, smiling. My name's Bartholomew, Miss Braden. I know your brother has forgotten it long ago. Edith laughed politely. Well, he continued, not exactly gorgeous quarters we have here, are they? Edith looked around the room.

They seem very nice, she replied. Where do you keep the bombs? The bombs, repeated Bartholomew, laughing. that's pretty good the bombs did you hear her henry she wants to know where we keep the bombs say that's pretty good edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over the edge her brother took a seat beside her well he asked absent-mindedly how do you like new york this trip not bad i'll be over at the bilkmore with the hoytes until sunday can't you come to luncheon to-morrow he thought a moment i'm especially busy he objected and I hate women in groups. All right, she agreed, unruffled. Let's you and me have luncheon together.

Very well. I'll call for you at twelve. Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some parting pleasantry. Well, he began awkwardly, they both turned to him. Well, we had an exciting time earlier in the evening. The two men exchanged glances. You should have come earlier, continued Bartholome.

somewhat encouraged. We had a regular vaudeville. Did you really? A serenade, said Henry. A lot of soldiers gathered down there in the street, and they began to yell at the sign. Why? she demanded. Just a crowd, said Henry, abstractedly.

All crowds have to howl. They didn't have anybody with much initiative in the lead, or they'd probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up. Yes, said Bartholomew, turning again to Edith. You should have been here. he seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal for he turned abruptly and went back to his desk are the soldiers all set against the socialist demanded edith of her brother i mean do they attack you violently and all that henry replaced his eye-shade and yawned the human race has come a long way he said casually but most of us are throwbacks the soldiers don't know what they want or what they hate or what they like they're used to acting in large bodies and they seem to have to make demonstrations so it happens to be against us there have been riots all over the city to-night it's may-day you see

was the disturbance here pretty serious not a bit he said scornfully about twenty-five of them stopped in the street about nine o'clock and began to bellow at the moon oh she changed the subject you're glad to see me henry why sure you don't seem to be i am i suppose you think i'm a-a wester sort of the world's worst butterfly henry laughed not at all have a good time while you're young why do i seem the priggish and earnest youth no she paused but somehow i began thinking how absolutely different the party i'm on is from from all your purposes it seems sort of of incongruous doesn't it me being at a party like that and you over here working for a thing that'll make that sort of party impossible ever any more if your ideas work i don't think of it that way you're young and you're acting just as you were brought up to act go ahead have a good time her feet which had been idly swinging stopped and her voice dropped a note i wish you'd you'd come back to harrisburg and have a good time do you feel sure that you're on the right track you're wearing beautiful stockings interrupted what on earth are they they're embroidered she replied glancing down aren't they cunning she raised her skirts and uncovered slim silk sheathed calves or do you disapprove of silk stockings he seemed slightly exasperated bent his dark eyes on her piercingly are you trying to make me out as criticizing you in any way edith not at all she paused bartholomew had uttered a grunt she turned and saw that he had left his desk and was standing at the window what is it demanded henry people said bartholomew and then after an instant whole jam of them they're coming from sixth avenue people the fat man pressed his nose to the pain soldiers by god he said emphatically i had an idea they'd come back edith jumped to her feet

and running over joined Bartholomew at the window. There's a lot of them, she cried excitedly. Come here, Henry. Henry readjusted his shade, but kept his seat. Hadn't we better turn out the lights, suggested Bartholomew. No, they'll go away in a minute. They're not, said Edith, peering from the window. They're not even thinking of going away.

There's more of them coming. Look, there's a whole crowd turning the corner of Sixth Avenue. By the yellow glow and blue shadows of the street lamp, she could see that the sidewalk was crowded with men. They were mostly in uniform, some sober, some enthusiastically drunk, and over the whole swept an incoherent clamor and shouting. Henry rose, and going to the window, exposed himself as a long silhouette against the office lights. Immediately the shouting became a steady yell, and a rattling fuselot of small missiles, corners of tobacco plugs, cigarette boxes, and even pennies beat against the window.

The sounds of the racket now began floating up the stairs, as the folding doors revolved. They're coming up, cried Bartholomew. Edith turned anxiously to Henry. They're coming up, Henry. From downstairs in the lower hall, their cries were now quite audible. God damn socialists.

Pro-Germans. Bull-lovers! Second floor front! Come on! We'll get the suns! The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them

like a cloud of rain, that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office. Then the door opened, then an overflow of men were forced into the room, not the leaders, but simply those who happened to be in front. Hello, Bo! Up late, ain't you? You and your girl, damn you! She noticed that two very drunken soldiers had been forced to the front, where they wobbled fatuously. One of them was short and dark, the other was tall and weak of chin. Henry stepped forward and raised his hand. "'Friends,' he said.

The clamor faded into a momentary stillness, punctuated with mutterings. "'Friends!' he repeated, his far-away eyes fixed over the heads of the crowd. "'You're injuring no one but yourselves by breaking in here tonight. Do we look like rich men? Do we look like Germans? I ask you, in all fairness. "'Pipe down. I'll say you do.' "'Say, who's your lady friend, buddy?' A man in civilian clothes who had been pawing over a table suddenly held up a newspaper. There it is, he shouted.

They wanted the Germans to win the war. A new overflow from the stairs was shouldered in, and of a sudden the room was full of men all closing around the pale little group at the back. Edith saw that the tall soldier with the weak chin was still in front. The short, dark one had disappeared. She edged slightly backward,

stood close to the open window, through which came a clear breath of cool night air. Then the room was a riot. She realized that the soldiers were surging forward, Whipsed the fat man swinging a chair over his head. Instantly the lights went out and she felt the push of warm bodies under rough cloth, and her ears were full of shouting and trampling and hard breathing. A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways,

and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window with a frightened fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on the area, Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall soldier with the weak chin. Anger rose astonishingly in her. She swung her arms wildly, edged blindly toward the thickest of the scuffling. She heard grunts, curses, the muffled impact of fists. Henry! she called frantically, Henry! Then, it was minutes later, she felt suddenly that there were other figures in the room. She heard a voice, deep, bullying, authoritative. She saw

yellow rays of light sweeping here and there in the fracas. The cries became more scattered. The scuffling increased and then stopped. Suddenly the light. were on and the room was full of policemen, clubbing left and right. The deep voice boomed out. Here now! Here now! Here now! And then, quiet down and get out. Here now! The room seemed to empty like a washbowl. A policeman fast grappled in the corner, released his hold on his soldier, antagonist, and started him with a shove toward the door. The deep voice continued. Edith perceived now that it came from a bull-necked police captain standing near the door. Here now! This is no way! One of your

own soldiers got shoved out of the back window and killed himself. Henry, called Edith. Henry! She beat wildly with her fists on the back of the man in front of her. She brushed between two others, fought, shrieked, and beat her way to a very pale figure sitting on the floor close to a desk. Henry, she cried passionately. What's the matter? What's the matter? Did they hurt you? His eyes were shut. He groaned, and then, looking up, said disgustedly,

They broke my leg. My God, the fools. Here now, called the police captain. here now here now nine child's fifty-ninth street at eight o'clock of any morning differs from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the degree of polish on the frying-pans you will see there a crowd of poor people with sleep in the corners of their eyes trying to look straight before them at their food so as not to see the other poor people but child's fifty-ninth four hours earlier is quite unlike any child's restaurant from portland oregon to portland maine within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus girls college boys debutants rakes fused de joie a not-unrepresented mixture of the gayest of broadway and even of fifth avenue in the early morning of may the second it was unusually full over the marble-topped tables were bent the excited faces of flappers whose fathers owned individual villages they were eating buckwheat cakes and scrambled eggs with relish and gusto an accomplishment that were bent the excited faces of flappers whose fathers owned individual villages they were eating buckwheat cakes and scrambled eggs with relish and gusto an accomplishment that that it would have been utterly impossible for them to repeat in the same place four hours later. Almost the entire crowd were from the Gamma Cyanne's dance at Delmonicose, except for several chorus girls from a midnight review who sat at a side table

and wished they'd taken off a little more makeup after the show. Here and there, a drab mouse-like figure desperately out of place watched the butterflies with a weary puzzled curiosity. But the drab figure was the exception. This was the morning after May Day, and celebration was slug. still in the air. Gus Rose, sober but a little dazed, must be classed as one of the drab figures. How he had got himself from 44th Street to 59th Street after the riot was only a hazy

half-memory. He had seen the body of Carol Key put in an ambulance and driven off, and then he had started uptown with two or three soldiers. Somewhere between 44th Street and 59th Street the other soldiers had met some women and disappeared. Rose had wandered to Columbus Circle and chosen the gleaming lights of childs to minister his craving for coffee and donuts. He walked in and sat down. All around him floated airy inconsequential chatter and high-pitched laughter. At first he

failed to understand, but after a puzzled five minutes he realized this was the aftermath of some gay party. Here and there a restless, hilarious young man wandered fraternally and familiarly between the tables, shaking hands indiscriminately and pausing occasionally for a facetious chat, while excited waiters bearing cakes and eggs aloft swore at him silently and bumped him out of the way to rose seated at the most inconspicuous and least crowded table the whole scene was a colorful circus of beauty and riotous pleasure he became gradually aware after a few moments that the couple seated diagonally across from him with their backs to the crowd were not the least interesting pair in the room the man was drunk he wore a dinner coat with a disheveled tie and shirt swollen by spillings of water and wine His eyes, dim and bloodshot, roved unnaturally from side to side. His breath came short between his lips. "'He's been on a spree,' thought Rose.

The woman was almost, if not quite, sober. She was pretty with dark eyes in feverish high color, and she kept her active eyes fixed on her companion with the alertness of a hawk. From time to time she would lean and whisper intently to him, and he would answer by inclining his head heavily or by a particularly ghoulish and repellent wink. Those scrutinized them dumbly for some minutes until the woman gave him a quick resentful look. Then he shifted his gaze to two of the most conspicuously hilarious of the promenaders who were on a protracted circuit of the tables. To his surprise, he recognized in one of them

the young man by whom he had been so ludicrously entertained at Delmonico's. This started him thinking of Key with a vague sentimentality, not unmixed with awe. Key was dead. He had fallen 35 feet and split his skull like a cracked cocoon. He was a darn good guy, thought Rose mournfully. He was a darn good guy, all right. That was awful hard luck about him. The two promenaders approached and started down between Rose's table and the next, addressing friends and strangers alike with jovial familiarity.

Suddenly Rose saw the fair-haired one with the prominent teeth stop, look unsteadily at the man and girl opposite, and then begin to move his head disapprovingly from side to side. The man with the bloodshot eyes looked up. Garty, said the promenator with the prominent teeth. Gordie! Hello, said the man with a stained shirt, thickly. Prominent teeth shook his finger pessimistically at the pair,

giving the woman a glance of aloof condemnation. What I tell you, Gordy? Gordy stirred in his seat. Go to hell, he said. Dean continued to stand there, shaking his finger. The woman began to get angry. You go away, she cried. fiercely you're drunk that's what you are so's he suggested dean staying the motion of his finger and pointing it at gordon peter himmel ambled up owlish now and oratorically inclined here now he began as if called upon to deal with some petty dispute between children what's all trouble

you take your friend away said jule tartly he's bothering us what's that you heard me she said shrilly i said to take your drunken friend away her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant, and a waiter came hurrying up. You've got to be more quiet. That fellow's drunk, she cried. He's insulting us. Aha, Gordy, persisted the accused. What I tell you, he turned to the waiter. Gordy and I friends been trying help him, haven't I, Gordy? Gordy looked up. Help me? Hell no! Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon's arm, assisted him to his feet. Come on, Gordy, she said, leaning toward him and speaking.

speaking in a half-whisper, Let's us get out of here. This fellow's got a mean drunk on." Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the door. Jewell turned for a second and addressed the provoker of their flight. "'I know all about you,' she said fiercely. "'Nice friend you are, I'll say. He told me about you.'

Then she seized Gordon's arm, and together they made their way through the curious crowd, paid their check and went out. "'You'll have to sit down,' said the waiter to Peter after they had gone. "'What's that?' Sit down? Yes, or get out. Peter turned to Dane. Come on, he suggested.

Let's beat up this waiter. All right, they advanced toward him. Their faces groaned stern. The waiter retreated. Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and picking up a handful of hash, tossed it into the air. It descended as a languid parabola in snowflake effect

on the heads of those nearby. Hey, he's up. Put him out. Sit down, Peter. Cut out that stuff. Peter laughed and bowed. Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If someone will lend me some more hash and a tall hat, we will go on with the act. The bouncer bustled up.

You've got to get out, he said to Peter. Hell no. He's my friend, put in Dean indignantly. A crowd of waiters were gathering. Put him out. Better go, Peter. There was a short struggle, and the two were edged and pushed towards the door. "'I got a hat and coat here,' cried Peter. "'Well, go get him and be spry about it.' The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air of extreme cunning,

rushed immediately around to the other table where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the exasperated waiters. "'I think I just better wait a little longer,' he announced. The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one way and for another. dean caught hold of two of them by the coat and another struggle took place before the pursuit of peter could be resumed he was finely pinioned after overturning a sugar bowl and several cups of coffee a fresh argument ensued at the cashier's desk where peter attempted to buy another dish of hash to take with him and throw at policemen but the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another phenomenon which drew admiring glances and a prolonged involuntary oh from every person in the restaurant. The great plate glass front had turned to a deep blue, the color of

a Maxfield Parish moonlight, a blue that seemed to press close upon the pane as if to crowd its way into the restaurant. Dawn had come up in Columbus Circle, magical, breathless dawn, silhouating the great statue of the immortal Christopher and mingling in a curious and uncanny manner with the fading yellow electric light inside. ten mr inn and mr out are not listed by the census-taker you will search for them in vain through the social register or the births marriages and deaths or the grocer's credit list oblivion has swallowed them and the testimony that they ever existed at all is vague and shadowy and inadmissible in a court of law yet i have it upon the best authority that for a brief space mr inn and mr outlived breathed answered to their names and rage Vivid personalities of their own. During the brief span of their lives,

they walked in their native garments down the great highway of a great nation, were left at, sworn at, chased at, and fled from. Then they passed and were heard of no more. They were already taking form dimly when a taxi cab with the top open breezed down Broadway in the faintest glimmer of May dawn. In this car sat the souls of Mr. In and Mr. Out, discussing with amazement, the blue light that had so precipitately colored the sky behind the statue of Christopher Columbus discussing with bewilderment the old grey faces of the early risers which skimmed palely along the street like blown bits of paper on a grey lake

they were agreed on all things from the absurdity of the bouncer and childs to the absurdity of the business of life they were dizzy with the extreme maudlin happiness that the morning had awakened in their glowing souls indeed so fresh and vigorous was their pleasure in living that they felt it should be expressed by loud cries yow hooted peter making a megaphone with his hands and dean joined in with a call that though equally significant and symbolic derived its resonance from its very inarticulitness yo ho yea yo boba fifty-third street was a bus with a dark bobbed hair beauty atop fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged escaped and sent up a yell of luck where you're aiming in a pained and grieved voice at fifty-th street a grieved street a group of men, on a very white sidewalk in front of a very white building, turned to stare after them and shouted, Some party, boys! At 49th Street, Peter turned to Dean. Beautiful morning, he said gravely, squinting up his owlish eyes. Probably is. Go get some breakfast, hey? Dean agreed with additions. Breakfast and liquor. Breakfast and liquor, repeated Peter, and they looked at each other nodding. That's logical. Then they both burst into loud laughter.

Breakfast and liquor, oh gosh. No such thing, announced Peter. Don't serve it. Never mind. We force them serve it. Bring pressure bear. Bring logic bear. The taxi cut suddenly off Broadway, sailed across a cross street, and stopped in front of a heavy tomb-like building in Fifth Avenue. What's idea? The taxi driver informed them. that this was Del Monaco's this was somewhat puzzling they were forced to devote several minutes to intense concentration for if such an order had been given there must have been a reason for it some but a coat suggested the taxi man that was it peter's overcoat and hat he had left them at Delmonico's having decided this they disembarked from the taxi and strolled toward the entrance arm and arm hey said the taxi driver ah you better pay me they shook their heads in shocked negation later not now we give orders you wait the taxi driver objected he wanted his money now with the scornful condescension of men exercising tremendous self-control they paid him inside peter groped in vain through a dim deserted check-room in search of his coat and derby gone i guess somebody stopped

it. Some chef student. Oh, probability. Never mind, said Dean Nobly. I'll leave mine here too. Then we'll both be dressed the same. He removed his overcoat and hat and was hanging them up when his roving glance was caught and held magnetically by two large squares of cardboard tacked to the two coat-room doors. The one on the left-hand door bore the word in, in big black letters, and the one on the right-hand door flunted the equal emphatic word out look he exclaimed happily Peter's eyes followed his pointing finger what look at the signs let's take them good idea probably pair very rare and valuable signs probably come in handy Peter removed the left-hand sign from the

door and endeavored to conceal it about his person the sign being of considerable proportions this was a matter of some difficulty an idea flung itself at him and with an air of dignified mystery he turned his back. After an instant he wheeled dramatically around and stretched out his arms displaying himself to the admiring dean. He had inserted the sign in his vest, completely covering the shirt front. In effect, the word in had been painted upon his shirt

in large black letters. Yo-ho, cheered Dean. Mr. In! He inserted his own sign in like manner. Mr. Out! he announced triumphantly. Mr. In, meet me. Mr. Out! They advanced and shook hands. Again laughter overcame them and they rocked in a shaken spasm of mirth. Yo-ho! We probably get a flock of breakfast. We'll go, go to the Commodore.

Arm in arm they sallied out the door and, turning east on 44th Street, set out for the Commodore. As they came out, a short, dark soldier, very pale and tired, who had been wandering listlessly along the sidewalk, turned to look at them. He started over as though to address them. but as they immediately bent on him glances of withering unrecognition, he waited until they had started unsteadily down the street, and then followed at about forty paces, chuckling to himself and saying, oh boy, over and over under his breath,

in delighted anticipatory tones. Mr. Inn and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning their future plans. We want liquor, we want breakfast, neither without the other, one and indivisible. We want both of them. both them it was quite light now and passers-by began to bend curious eyes on the pair obviously they were engaged in a discussion which afforded each of them intense amusement for occasionally a fit of laughter would seize upon them so violently that still with their arms interlocked they would bend nearly double reaching the commodore they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the sleepy-eyed door-man navigated the revolving door with some difficulty and then made their way through a thinly populated but startled

lobby to the dining room, where a puzzled waiter showed them an obscure table in a corner. They studied the Bill of Fair helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles. "'Don't see any liquor here,' said Peter reproachfully. The waiter became audible, but unintelligible. "'Repeat,' continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "'that there seems to be unexplained and quite distasteful lack of liquor upon Bill of Fair.' "'Here,' said. said Dean confidently.

Let me handle him. He turned to the waiter. Bring us, bring us! He scanned the bill of fare anxiously. Bring us a quarter of champagne and a probably ham sandwich. The waiter looked doubtful. Bring it! roared out Mr. Inn and Mr. Out in chorus. The waiter coughed and disappeared. There was a short wait during which they were subjected

without their knowledge to a careful scrutiny by the head waiter. Then the champagne arrived in a at the sight of it Mr. Inn and Mr. Out became jubilant. Imagine they're objecting to us having champagne for breakfast. Just imagine. They both concentrated upon the vision of such an awesome possibility, but the feat was too much for them. It was impossible for their joint imaginations to conjure up a world

where anyone might object to anyone else having champagne for breakfast. The waiter drew the cork with an enormous pop, and to their glasses immediately foamed with pale yellow frock. here's health mr N there's same to you mr out the waiter withdrew the minutes passed the champagne became low in the bottle it's is mortifying said Dean suddenly what's mortifying the idea they're objecting us having champagne breakfast mortifying Peter considered yes that's word mortifying again they collapsed into laughter howled swayed rocked back and forth in the their chairs, repeating the word mortifying, over and over to each other, each repetition seeming to make it only more brilliantly absurd. After a few more gorgeous minutes they decided on another court. Their anxious waiter consulted his immediate superior, and this discreet person

gave implicit instructions that no more champagne should be served. Their check was brought. Five minutes later, arm and arm they left the Commodore and made their way through a curious, staring crowd along 42nd Street and up Vanderbilt Avenue to the Biltmore. There, with sudden cunning, they rose to the occasion and traversed the lobby, walking fast, and standing unnaturally erect. Once in the dining room they repeated their performance. They were torn between intermittent convulsive laughter and sudden spasmodic discussions of politics, college, and the sunny state of their dispositions. Their watches told them that it was now nine o'clock and a dim idea was born in them that they were on a memorable party,

something that they would remember always. They lingered over the second bottle. Either of them had only to mention the word mortifying to send them both into riotous gasps. The dining room was whirring and shifting now. A curious lightness permeated and rarefied the heavy air. They paid their check and walked out into the lobby. It was at this moment that the exterior doors revolved

for the thousandth time that morning and admitted into the lobby a very pale young beauty with dark circles under her eyes, attired in a much rumpled evening dress. She was accompanied by a plain stout man, obviously not an appropriate escort. At the top of the stairs, this couple encountered Mr. In and Mr. out. Edith, began Mr. N., stepping toward her hilariously and making a sweeping bow. Darling, good morning! The stout man glanced questioningly at Edith, as if merely asking her permission to throw this man summarily out of the way. Excuse familiarity, added Peter,

as if an afterthought. Edith, good morning. He seized Dean's elbow and impelled him into the foreground. Meet Mr. Ined, Edith, my best friend. Inseparable Mr. In and Mr. Out, Mr. Out, advanced and bowed. In fact, he advanced so far and bowed so low that he tipped slightly forward and only kept his balance by placing a hand lightly on Edith's shoulder. I'm Mr. Out, Edith, he mumbled pleasantly. Smisterin, Mr. Out. Smistrin and out, said Peter Proust. But Edith stared straight by them, her eyes fixed on some infinite speck in the gallery above her. She nodded slightly to the stout man who advanced bull-like, and with a sturdy

brisk gesture pushed Mr. In and Mr. Out to either side. Through this alley he and Edith walked. But ten paces farther on Edith stopped again, stopped and pointed to a short dark soldier who was eyeing the crowd in general, and the tableau of Mr. In and Mr. Out in particular with a sort of puzzled spellbound awe. There, cried Edith. See there? Her voice rose became somewhat shrill. Her pointing fingers shook slightly. There's the soldier who broke my brother's leg. There were a dozen exclamations. A man in a cutaway coat left his place near the desk and advanced alertly. The stout person made a sort of lightning-like spring toward the short, dark soldier, and then the lobby closed around the

little group and blotted them from the sight of Mr. In and Mr. Out. But to Mr. In and Mr. Out, this event It was merely a particle-iridistant segment of a whirring spinning world. They heard loud voices. They saw the stout man spring. The picture suddenly blurred. Then they were in an elevator bound skyward. What floor, please? said the elevator man. Any floor, said Mr. Inn.

Top floor, said Mr. Out. This is the top floor, said the elevator man. Have another floor put on, said Mr. Out. Hoyer, said Mr. Inn. Heaven, said Mr. out. Eleven. In a bedroom of a small hotel just off 6th Avenue, Gordon Starratt awoke with a pain in the back of his head and a sick throbbing in all his veins. He looked at the dusky grey shadows in the corners of the room and at a raw place on a large leather chair in the corner where it had long been in use. He saw clothes, disheveled, rumpled clothes on the floor and he smelt stale cigarette smoke and stale liquor. The windows were tight shut. Outside the bright sunlight had thund thrown a dust-filled beam across the sill, a beam broken by the head of the wide wooden bed in which he had slept. He lay very quiet, comatose drugged, his eyes wide, his mind clicking wildly

like an unoiled machine. It must have been thirty seconds after he perceived the sunbeam with the dust on it, and the rip on the large leather chair that he had the sense of life close beside him, and it was another thirty seconds after that before he realized that he was irrevocably married to Jewel Hudson. he went out half an hour later and bought a revolver at a sporting goods store then he took a taxi to the room where he had been living on east twenty seventh street and leaning across the table that held his drawing materials fired a cartridge into his head just behind the temple End of Section 4, read by Don W. Jenkins. Rancho San Diego, California. Shaggybark. Blogspot.com

Section 5 of Tales of the Jazz Age. By F. Scott Fitzgerald. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Porcelain and Pink A room in the downstairs of a summer cottage, High around the wall runs an art freeze of a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and a ship on a crimson ocean. A fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and a ship on a crimson ocean.

A fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and so on. In one place on the freeze there is an overlapping. Here we have half a fisherman with half a pile of nets at his foot, crowded damply against half a ship on half a crimson ocean. The freeze is not in the plot, but frankly it fascinates me. I could continue indefinitely, but I am distracted by one of the two objects in the room. A blue porcelain bathtub. It has character, this bathtub.

It is not one of the new racing bodies, but is small, with a high tonneau and looks as if it were going to jump. Discouraged, however, by the shortness of its legs, it has submitted to its environment and to its coat of sky-blue paint. but it grumpily refuses to allow any patron completely to stretch his legs which brings us neatly to the second object in the room it is a girl clearly an appendage to the bathtub only her head and throat beautiful girls have throats instead of necks and a suggestion of shoulder appearing above the side for the first ten minutes of the play the audience is engrossed in wondering if she really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether it is being cheated and she is dressed. The girl's name is Julie Marvis. From the proud way she sits up in the bathtub, we deduce that she is not very tall

and that she carries herself well. When she smiles, her upper lip rolls a little and reminds you of an Easter bunny. She is within whispering distance of twenty years old. One thing more. Above and to the right of the bathtub is a window. It is narrow and has a wide sill. It lets in much sunshine, but effectually prevents anyone who looks in from seeing the bathtub.

You begin to suspect the plot? We open conveniently enough with a song, but as the startled gasp of the audience quite drowns out the first half, we will give only the last of it. Julie, in an airy soprano enthusiastico, When Caesar did the Chicago, he was a graceful child, those sacred chickens just raised the dickens the best of all the virgins went wild whenever the nervy he got nervy he gave them an awful razz they shook in the shoes with the consular blues the imperial roman jazz during the wild applause that follows julie modestly moves her arms and makes waves on the surface of the water at least we suppose she does then the door on the left open and Lois Marba centers, dressed but carrying garments and towels.

Lois is a year older than Julie, and is nearly her double in face and voice, but in her clothes and expression are the marks of the conservative. Yes, you've guessed it. Mistaken identity is the old rusty pivot upon which the plot turns. Lois, starting. Oh, excuse me, I didn't know you were here. Julie. Oh, hello, I'm giving a little concert.

Lois, interrupting. Why didn't you lock the door? Julie. Didn't I? Lois. Of course you didn't. You think I just walked through it? Julie.

I thought you picked the lock, dearest. Lois. You're so careless. Julie. No, I'm happy as a garbageman's dog and I'm giving a little concert. Lois, severely. Grow up. Julie, waving a pink arm around the room.

the walls reflect the sound you see that's why there's something very beautiful about singing in a bathtub it gives an effect of surpassing loveliness can i render you a selection lois i wish you'd hurry out of the tub julie shaking her head thoughtfully can't be hurried this is my kingdom at present godliness lois why the mellow name julie because you're next to cleanliness don't throw anything please lois how long will you be julie after some consideration not less than fifteen nor more than twenty-five minutes lois as a favour to me will you make it ten julie reminiscing all godliness do you remember a day in the chill of last january when one julie famous for her easter rabbit smile was going out and there was scarcely any hot water and young julie had just filled the tub for her own little self when the wicked sister came and did bathe herself therein forcing the young julie to perform her ablutions with cold cream which is expensive and a darn lot of troubles lois impatiently then you won't hurry julie why should i lois i've got a date julie here at the house lois none of your business julie shrugs the visible tips of her shoulders and stirs the water into ripples. Julie.

So be it. Lois. Oh, for heaven's sake. I have a date here at the house, in a way. Julie. In a way? Lois. He isn't coming in.

He's calling for me and we're walking. Julie, raising her eyebrows. Oh, the plot clears. It's that literary Mr. Culkins. I thought you promised mother you wouldn't invite him in. Lois, desperately. She's so idiotic. She detests him because he's just got a divorce.

Of course she's had more experience than I have, but... Julie, wisely. Don't let her kid you. Experience is the biggest gold brick in the world. All older people have it for sale. Lois. I like him. We talk literature.

Julie. Ah, so that's why I've noticed all those weighty books around the house lately. Lois, he lends them to me. Julie. Well, you've got to you. to play his king, when in Rome do as the Romans would like to do, but I'm through with books. I'm all educated. Lois. We're very inconsistent. Last summer you read every day.

Julie. If I were consistent, I'd still be living on warm milk out of a bottle. Lois. Yes, and probably my bottle, but I like Mr. Culkins. Julie. I never met him. Lois. Well, will you hurry up? Julie. Yes, I will wait till the water gets teepid. Then I will let in more hot. Lois, sarcastically.

How interesting. Julie. Remember when we used to play Sopo? Lois. Yes, and ten years old. I'm really quite surprised that you don't play it still. Julie. I do. I'm going to in a minute. Lois. Silly game. Julie. No, it isn't. It's good for the next. nerves i'll bet you've forgotten how to play it lois defiantly no i haven't you get the tub all full of soap suds and then you get up on the edge and slide down julie shaking her head scornfully huh that's only part of it you've got to slide down without touching your hand or feet lois impatiently oh lord what do i care i wish we'd either stop coming here in the summer or else get a house with two bath-tubs julie

you can buy yourself a little tin one or use the hose lois oh shut up julie irrelevantly leave the towel lois what julie leave the towel when you go lois this towel julie sweetly yes i forgot my towel lois looking around for the first time why you idiot you haven't even a kimono julie also looking around why so i haven't lois suspicion growing on her how did you get here julie laughing ah i guess i-i guess i whisked here you know a white form whisking down the stairs and lois scandalized why you little wretch haven't you any pride or self-respect julie lots of both i think that proves it i looked very well i really am rather cute in my natural state lois well you julie thinking aloud i wish people didn't wear any clothes i guess i ought to have been a pagan or a native or something lois you're a julie i dreamt last night that one sunday in church a small boy brought in a magnet that attracted cloth he attracted the clothes right off of everybody put them in an awful state people were crying and shrieking and carrying on as if they'd just discovered their skins for the first time only I didn't care, so I just laughed. I had to pass the collection plate because nobody else would.

Lois, who has turned a deaf ear to this speech? Do you mean to tell me that if I hadn't come, you'd have run back to your room, unclothed? Julie. Ah, natural, it's so much nicer. Lois, suppose there had been someone in the living room. Julie, they never has been yet. Lois, yet, good grief, how long?

"'Julie. Besides, I usually have a towel.' Lois completely overcome. "'Golly, you ought to be spanked. I hope you get caught. I hope there's a dozen ministers in the living room when you come out, and their wives, and their daughters.' "'Julie, there wouldn't be room for them in the living room,' answered Queen Kate of the laundry district. "'Loweus, all right, you've made your own bathtub. You can lie in it.' Lois starts determinedly for the door. Julie, an alarm.

Hey, hey, I don't care about the kimono, but I want to tell. I can't dry myself on a piece of soap and a wet wash-rack. Lois, obstinately. I won't humor such a creature. You'll have to dry yourself the best way you can. You can roll on the floor like the animals do that don't wear any clothes. Julie, complacent again. All right, get out.

Lois, hotly. Huh! Julie turns on the cold water, and with her finger directs a parabolic stream at Lois. Lois retires quickly, slamming the door after her. Julie laughs and turns off the water. Julie, singing, When the arrow-collar man meets the did you kiss girl on the smokeless Santa Fe, Her pebeco smile, her Lucille style, D-Dum-Doddy-Dum one day. She changes to a whistle and leans forward to turn on the taps, but is startled by three loud banging noises in the pipes. Silence for a moment, then she puts her mouth down near the spigot as if it were a telephone.

Julie. Hello? No answer. Are you a plumber? No answer. Are you the water department? One loud hollow bang. What do you want?

No answer. I believe you're a ghost. Are you? No answer. Well, then stop banging. She reaches out and turns on the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down full.

to the spigot if you're the plumber that's a mean trick turn it on for a fellow two loud hollow bangs don't argue i want water water water a young man's head appears in the window a head decorated with a slim moustache and sympathetic eyes these last stare and though they can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean they decide him to speak the young man someone fainted julie starting up all ears immediately Jumping cats the young man helpfully water's no good for fits Julie fits who said anything about fits the young man you said something about a cat jumping Julie decidedly I did not the young man well we can talk it over later are you ready to go out or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody will gossip Julie smiling gossip would they it'd be more than gossip it'd be a regular scandal the young man here you're going to it a little strong your family might be somewhat disgruntled but to the pure all things are suggestive no one else would even

give it a thought except a few old women come on julie you don't know what you ask the young man do you imagine we'd have a crowd following us julie a crowd there'd be a special all-steel buffet train leaving new york hourly the young man say are you house cleaning julie why the young man i see all the pictures are off the walls julie why we never have pictures in this room the young man odd i never heard of a room without pictures or tapestry or panelling or something julie there's not even any furniture in here the young man what a strange house julie it depended on the angle you see it from the young man sentimentally that's so nice talking to you like this when you're merely a voice i'm rather glad i can't see you julie gratefully so am i the young man what color are you wearing julie after a critical survey of her shoulders why i guess it's a sort of pinkish-white the young man is it becoming to you julie very it's it's old i've had it for a long while the young man i thought you hated old clothes "'Julie.'

"'I do, but this was a birthday present, and I sort of have to wear it.' "'The young man. "'Pinkish-white. "'Well, I'll bet it's divine. "'Is it in style?' "'Julie.' "'Quite. "'It's a very simple, standard model.'

"'The young man. "'What a voice you have, how it echoes. "'Sometimes I shut my eyes and seemed to see you in a far desert island calling for me, "'and I plunge toward you through the surf, "'hearing you call as you stand there, water, stretching on both sides of you.' "'The soap. slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young man blinks. Young man. What was that? Did I dream it? Julie. Yes, you're very poetic, aren't you?

The young man, dreamily. No, I do prose. I do verse only when I am stirred. Julie murmuring, stirred by a spoon. The young man. I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day the first poem I ever learned by heart. by heart. It was Evangeline. Julie. That's a fib. The young man. Did I say Evangeline? I meant the skeleton in armor. Julie. I'm a lowbrow, but I can remember my first poem. It had one verse. Parker and Dave is sitting on a fence, trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents.

The young man eagerly, are you growing fond of literature? Julie. If it's not too ancient or complicated or depressing, same way with people i usually like em not too ancient or complicated or depressing the young man of course i've read enormously you told me last night that you were very fond of walter scott julie considering scott let's see yes i've read ivanhoe and the last of the mohicans the young man that's by cooper julie angrily ivanhoe is you're crazy i guess i know i read it the young man the last of the mohikins is by cooper julie what do i care i like oh henry i don't see how he ever wrote those stories most of them he wrote in prison the ballad of reading jail he made up in prison the young man biting his lip literature literature how much it has meant to me julie well as gabie deslis said to mr bergson with my looks and your brains there's nothing we couldn't do the young man laughing you certainly are hard to keep up with one day you're awfully pleasant and the next you're in a mood if i didn't understand your temperament so well julie impatiently oh you're one of those amateur character readers are you size people up in fifteen minutes and then look wise whenever they're mentioned i hate that sort of thing the young man i don't boast of sizing you up you're most mysterious i'll admit julie there's only two mysterious people in history

the young man who are they julie the man with the iron mask and the fellow who says ugh a glug a glug when the line is busy the young man you are mysterious i love you you're beautiful intelligent and virtuous and that's the rarest known combination julie you're a historian tell me if there are any bath-tubs in history i think they've been frightfully neglected the young man bath-tubs let's see well agamemnon was stabbed in his bath-tub and charlotte corday stabbed marat in his bath-tub julie sighing way back there nothing new besides the sun is there why only yesterday i picked up a musical comedy score that must have been at least twenty years old and there on the cover it said the shimmies of normandy but shimmy was spelt the old way with a sea the young man i lobed these modern dances oh lois i wish i could see you come to the window there was a loud bang in the water-pipe and suddenly the flow starts from the open taps julie turns them off quickly the young man puzzled what on earth was that julie ingeniously i heard something too the young man sounded like running water julie didn't it strange like it as a matter of fact i was filling the goldfish bowl The young man, still puzzled. What was that banging noise?

Julie. One of the fish snapping his golden jaws. The young man, with sudden resolution. Lois, I love you. I am not a mundane man, but I am a forger. Julie, interested at once. Oh, how fascinating. The young man.

A forger I had, Lois, I want you. Julie, skeptically. Huh? What you really want is for the world to come to attention and stand there till you give rest. The young man. Lois, I, Lois, I. He stops as Lois opens the door, comes in, and bangs it behind her.

She looks peevishly at Julie, then suddenly catches sight of the young man in the window. Lois, in horror. Mr. Culkins! The young man, surprised. Why, I thought you said you were wearing a pinkish-white. After one despairing stare, Lois shrieks, throws up her hands in surrender, and sinks to the floor. The young man, in great alarm. Good Lord.

She's fainted. I'll be right in. Julie's eyes light on the towel, which has slipped from Lois's inert hand. Julie, in that case, I'll be right out. She puts her hands on the side of the tub to lift herself out, and a murmur, half gasp, half sigh, ripples from the audience. A balasco midnight comes quickly down and blots out the stage. Curtain. End of Section 5, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California.

Shaggybark.blogspot.com Section 6 of Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins The Diamond as Big as the Ritz. Part 1. 1. John T. Unger came from a family that had been well known in Hades, a small town on the Mississippi River, for several generations.

john's father had held the amateur golf championship through many a heated contest mrs unger was known from hot box to hot bed as the local phrase went for her political addresses and young john t unger who had just turned sixteen had danced all the latest dances from new york before he put on long trousers and now for a certain time he was to be put away from home the respect for new england education which is the bane of all provincial places which drains them yearly of their most promising young men had seized upon his parents nothing would suit them but that he should go to st midas's school near boston hades was too small to hold their darling and gifted son now in hades as you know if you ever have been there the names of the more fashionable preparatory schools and colleges mean very little the inhabitants have been so long out of the world that though they make a show of keeping up-to-date in dress and manners and literature they depend to a great extent on hearsay and a function that in hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be hailed by a chicago beef princess as perhaps a little tacky john t ungher was on the eve of departure mrs unger with maternal fatuity packed his trunks full of linen suits and electric fans and mr oner presented his son with an asbestos pocketbook stuffed with money. Remember, you are always welcome here, he said.

You can be sure, boy, that we'll keep the home fires burning. I know, answered John huskily. Don't forget who you are and where you came from, continued his father proudly, and you can do nothing to harm you. You are an hunger from Hades. So the old man and the young shook hands, and John walked away with tears streaming from his eyes. ten minutes later he had passed outside the city limits and he stopped to glance back for the last time over the gates the old-fashioned victorian motto seemed strangely attractive to him his father had tried time and time again to have it changed to do something with a little more push and verb about it such as hades your opportunity or else a plain welcome sign set over a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights the old motto was a little depressing mr hunger had thought but now so john took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his destination and as he turned away the lights of hades against the sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty

st midas's school is half an hour from boston in a rolls pierce motor-car the actual distance will never be known for no one except john t unger had ever arrived there save in a rolls pierce and probably no one ever will again st midas's is the most expensive and the most expensive and the one's the most exclusive boys preparatory school in the world. John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all the boys were money kings, and John spent his summer visiting at fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he visited, their fathers struck him as being much of a peace, and in his boyish way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness.

When he told them where his home was, they would ask jovially, "'Pretty hot down there!' and John would muster a faint smile and answer. It certainly is. His response would have been heartier had they not all made this joke, at best varying it with, is it hot enough for you down there? Which he hated just as much. In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome boy named Percy Washington had been put in John's form. The newcomer was pleasant in his manner, and exceedingly well-dressed even for St. Midas's, but for some reason he kept a loop from the other boys. The only person with whom he was intimate was John T. Unger, but even

to John he was entirely uncommunicative concerning his home or his family. That he was wealthy went without saying, but beyond a few such deductions John knew little of his friend, so it promised rich confectionery for his curiosity when Percy invited him to spend the summer at his home, in the West. He accepted, without hesitation. It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the first time, rather communicative. One day while they were eating lunch in the dining-car and discussing the imperfect characters of several of the boys at school, Percy suddenly changed his tone and made an abrupt remark. "'My father,' he said, "'is by far the richest man in the world.'

"'Oh,' said John politely, "'he could think of no answer to make to this confidence,' he considered. "'That's very nice, but it sounded hollow and was on the point of saying, really but refrained since it would seem to question Percy's statement and such an astounding statement could scarcely be questioned by far the richest repeated Percy I was reading in the world almanac began John that there was one man in America with an income of over five million a year and four men with incomes of over three million a year and oh they're nothing Percy's mouth was a half moon of scorn catch penny capitalists financial

small fry petty merchants and and money-lenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd done it. But how does he? Why haven't they put down his income tax? Because he doesn't pay any. At least he pays a little one, but he doesn't pay any on his real income. He must be very rich, said John simply. I'm glad. I like very rich people. The richer a fella is, the better I like him. There was a look of passionate frankness upon his dark face. I visited the Schnitzer Murphy's last Easter. Vivian Schnichelitz. murphy has rubies as big as hen's eggs and sapphires that are like globes with lights inside them i love jewels agreed percy enthusiastically of course i wouldn't want anyone at school to know about it but i've got quite a collection myself i used to collect them instead of stamps and diamonds continued john eagerly the schnitzer murphy's had diamonds as big as walnuts that's nothing percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice to a low whisper that's nothing at all my father has a diamond

and bigger than the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. 2. The Montana sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic bruise from which dark arteries spread themselves over a poisoned sky. An immense distance under the sky crouched the village of fish, minute, dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said, in the village of fish, twelve somber and inexplicable souls who sucked a lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which a mysterious populatory force had begotten them. They had become a race apart, these twelve men of fish, like some species, developed by an

early whim of nature, which, on second thought, had abandoned them to struggle and extermination. Out of the blue-black bruise in the distance crept a long line of moving lights upon the desolation of the land, and the twelve men of fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing of the seven o'clock train, the transcontinent. Express from Chicago. Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express, through some inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of fish, and when this occurred, a figure or so would disembark, mount into a buggy that always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off towards the bruised sunset. The observation of this pointless and preposterous phenomenon

had become a sort of cult among the men of fish. To observe, that was all. Their rebroad. remained in them none of the vital quality of illusion which would make them wonder or speculate else a religion might have grown up around these mysterious visitations but the men of fish were beyond all religion the barest and most savage tenets of even christianity could gain no foothold on that barren rock so there was no altar no priest no sacrifice only each night at seven the silent concourse by the shanty depot a congregation who lifted up a prayer of dim anemic wonder on this june night the great brakeman whom had they deified any one they might well have chosen as their celestial protagonist had ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human or inhuman deposit at fish at two minutes after seven percy washington and john t unger disembarked hurried past the spellbound the agape the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of fish mounted into a buggy which had obviously appeared from nowhere and drove away after half an hour when the twilight had coagulated into dark the silent negro who was driving the buggy hailed an opaque body somewhere ahead of them in the gloom in response to his cry it turned upon them a luminous disc which regarded them like a malignant eye out of the unfathomable night as they came closer john saw that it was the tail-light of an immense automobile larger and more magnificent than any he had ever seen its body was of gleaming metal richer than nickel and metal richer than nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the wheels were studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and yellow. John did not dare to guess whether they were glass or jewel. Two Negroes,

dressed in glittering livery, such as one sees in pictures of royal processions in London, were standing at attention beside the car, and, as the two young men dismounted from the buggy, they were greeted in some language which the guest could not understand, but which seemed to be an extreme form of the southern Negroes' dialect. get in said percy to his friend as their trunks were tossed to the ebony roof of the limousine sorry we had to bring you this far in that buggy but of course it wouldn't do for people on the train or those god-forsaken fellows in fish to see this automobile gosh what a car this ejaculation was provoked by its interior john saw that the upholstery consisted of a thousand minute and exquisite tapestries of silk woven with jewels and embroideries and set upon a background of cloth of gold. The two arm-chair seats in which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff that resembled duffetan, but seemed woven in numberless colors of the ends of ostrich feathers.

What a car! cried John again, in amazement. This thing? Percy laughed. Why, it's just an old junk we used for a station wagon. By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward the break between the two mountains. We'll be there in an hour and a half, said Percy, looking at the clock. I may as well tell you, it's not going to be like anything you ever saw before. If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was prepared to be astonished indeed. The simple piety, prevalent in Hades, has the earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article of its creed. Had John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before them, his parents would have turned away

in horror at the blasphemy. They had now reached and were entering the break between the two mountains and almost immediately the way became much rougher. if the sun shone down here you'd see that we're in a big gulch said percy trying to peer out of the window he spoke a few words into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned a searchlight and swept the hillsides with an immense beam rocky you see an ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in half an hour in fact it'd take a tank to navigate it unless you knew the way you notice we're going up hill now they were obviously ascending and within a few minutes the car was crossing a high rise where they caught a glimpse of a pale moon newly risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several figures took shape out of the darkness beside it. These were negroes also. Again the two young men were saluted in the same dimly recognizable dialect. Then the negroes set to work and four immense cables dangling from overhead were attached with hooks to the hubs of the great jeweled wheels. At a resounding, hey ya! John felt the car

being lifted slowly from the ground, up and up. Clear of the tallest rocks on both sides. then higher until he could see a wavy moonlit valley stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of rocks that they had just left only on one side was there still rock and then suddenly there was no rock beside them or anywhere around it was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knife-blade of stone projecting perpendicularly into the air in a moment they were going down again and finally with a soft bump they were landed upon the smooth earth the worst is over said Percy, squinting out at the window. It's only five miles from here, and our own road, tapestry brick all the way. This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends, father says. Are we in Canada? We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies, but you are now on the only five square miles of land in the country that's never been surveyed. Why hasn't it? Did they forget it? No, said Percy grinning. They tried to do it

three times. The first time my grandfather corrupted a whole department of the state survey. The second time he had the official maps of the United States tinkered with. That held them for 15 years. The last time was harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses were in the strongest magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set of surveying instruments made with a slight defection that would allow for his territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected, and he had what looked like a village upon its banks so that they'd see it, and to think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one thing my father's afraid of, he concluded, only one thing in the world that could

be used to find us out. What's that? Percy sank his voice to a whisper. "'Arowplanes,' he breathed. "'We've got half a dozen anti-aircraft guns, and we've arranged it so far but there have been a few deaths and a great many prisoners not to be mine to that you know father and i but it upsets mother and the girls and there's always the chance that sometime we won't be able to arrange it shreds and tatters of chinchilla courtesy clouds in the green moon's heaven were passing the green moon like precious eastern stuffs paraded for the inspection of some tartar con it seemed to john that it was day and that he was looking at some lads sailing above him in the air showering down tracts and patent medicine circulars with their messages of hope for despairing rock-bound hamlets it seemed to him that he could see them look down out of the clouds and stare and stare at whatever there was to stare at in this place. Whether he was bound, what then? Were they induced to land by some insidious device to be immured far from patent medicines and from tracts until the judgment day? Or should they fail to fall into the trap did a quick puff of smoke and the sharp sound of a splitting shell

bring them drooping to earth and upset Percy's mother and sisters? John shook his head and the wraith of a hollow laugh issued silently from his parted lips. What desperate transaction lay hidden here? What moral expedient of a bizarre creases. What terrible and golden mystery! The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now, and outside the Montana night was bright as day. The tapestry brick of the road was smooth to the tread of the great tires as they rounded a still moonlit lake. They passed into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent and cool. Then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn, and John's exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn. We're home.

full in the light of the stars an exquisite chateau rose from the borders of the lake climbed in marble radiance half the height of an adjoining mountain then melted in grace in perfect symmetry in translucent feminine languor into the mass darkness of a forest of pine the many towers the slender tracery of the sloping parapets the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with her oblongs and hectagons and triangles of golden light the shattered softness of the intersected planes of starshine and blue shade, all trembled on John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the tallest, the blackest at its base, an arrangement of exterior lights at the top made a sort of floating fairyland. And as John gazed up in warm enchantment, the faint Achikari sound of violins drifted down in a Rococo harmony that was like nothing he had ever heard before. Then in a moment the car stopped before wide high marble steps around which the night air was fragrant with a host of flowers.

At the top of the steps, two great doors swung silently open, and amber light flooded out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an exquisite lady with black high-piled hair, who held out her arms toward them. "'Mother!' Percy was saying. "'This is my friend John Unger, from Hades.' Afterward, John remembered that first night as a daze of many colors, of quick sensory impressions,

of music soft as a voice in love, and of the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions, and faces. There was a white-haired man who stood drinking a many-hued cordial from a crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There was a girl with a flowery face dressed like Titania with braided sapphires in her hair. There was a room where the solid, soft gold of the walls yielded to the pressure of his hand, and a room that was like a platonic conception of the ultimate prison, ceiling, floor, and all. It was lined, with an unbroken mass of diamonds, diamonds of every size and shape, until, lit with tall violet lamps in the corners, it dazzled the eyes with a whiteness that could be compared only with

itself, beyond human wish or dream. Through a maze of these rooms, the two boys wandered. Sometimes the floor under their feet would flame in brilliant patterns from lighting below, patterns of barbaric clashing colors, of pastel delicacy, of sheer whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some mosque on the Adriatic sea. Sometimes beneath layers of thick crystal he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and growths of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of every texture and color along corridors of palest ivory, unbroken as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs extinct before the age of men. Then a hazily remembered transition and they were at dinner, where each plate was of

two almost imperceptible layers of solid diamond between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald design, a shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unobtrusive, drifted down through far corridors. His chair, feathered and curved insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him as he drank his first glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a question that had been asked him. But the honeyed luxury that clasped his body added to the illusion of sleep. Jules, fabrics, wines, and metals blurred before his eyes into a sweet mist. Yes, he replied with a polite effort,

It certainly is hot enough for me down there. He managed to add a ghostly laugh, then without movement, without resistance, he seemed to float off and away, leaving an ice dessert that was pink as a dream. He fell asleep. When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in a great quiet room with ebony walls and a dull illumination. that was too faint, too subtle to be called the light. His young host was standing over him. You fell asleep at dinner, Percy was saying. I nearly did, too.

It was such a treat to be comfortable again after this year of school. Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping. Is this a bed or a cloud? sighed John. Percy, Percy, before you go, I want to apologize. For what? For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as the Ritz-Carlton Hotel? Percy smiled.

I thought you didn't believe me. It's that mountain, you know. What mountain? The mountain the chateau rests on. It's not very big for a mountain, but except about 50 feet of sod and gravel on the top. It's solid diamond. One diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw.

Aren't you listening? Say, but John T. Unger had again fallen asleep. Three. Morning. As he awoke, he perceived drowsily that the room had at the same moment become dense with sunlight. The ebony panel. of one wall had slid aside on a sort of track leaving his chamber half open to the day a large negro in a white uniform stood beside his bed good evening muttered john summoning his brains from the wild places

good mornin sir are you ready for your baths sir oh don't get up i'll put you in if you'll just unbutton your pajamas there thank you sir john lay quietly as his pajamas were removed he was amused and delighted he expected to be lifted like a child by this black gargantua who was tending him but nothing of the sort happened instead he felt the bed tilt up slowly on its side he began to roll startled at first in the direction of the wall but when he reached the wall its drapery gave way but when he reached the wall its drapery gave way and sliding two yards farther down a fleecy incline, he plumped gently into water the same temperature as his body. He looked about him. The runway, or rollway on which he had arrived, had folded gently back into place. He had been projected into another chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head just above the level of the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the room and the sides and bottom of the bath itself was a blue aquarium, and gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat he could see fish swimming,

among amber lights and even gliding without curiosity past his outstretched toes which were separated from them only by the thickness of the crystal from overhead sunlight came down through sea-green glass i suppose sir that you'd like hot rose-water and soap-suds this morning sir and perhaps cold water to finish the negro was standing beside him yes agreed john smiling inanely as you please any idea of ordering his bath according to his his own meager standards of living would have been priggish and not a little wicked the negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall apparently from overhead but really so john discovered after a moment from a fountain arrangement nearby the water turned to a pale rose color and jets of liquid soap spurred into it from four miniature walrus heads at the corners of the bath in a moment a dozen little paddle-wheels fixed to the sides had churned the mixture into a radiant rainbow of pink foam, which enveloped him softly with its delicious lightness, and burst in shining rosy bubbles here and there about him. Shall I turn on the moving picture machine, sir? suggested the negro deferentially. There's a good one real comedy in this machine today, or I can put in a serious piece in a

moment if you prefer it. No thanks, answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying his bath too much to desire any distrable. but distraction came in a moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just outside flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall cool and green as the room itself accompanying a frothy piccolo in play more fragile than the lace of suds that covered and warmed him after a cold salt water bracer and a cold fresh finish he stepped out and into a fleecy robe and upon a couch covered with the same material material, he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a voluptuous chair while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed. Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room, said the negro when these operations were finished. My name is Gigsom, Mr. Unger, sir. I am to see to Mr.

Unger every morning. John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living room, where he found breakfast waiting for him and Percy gorgeous and white kid Nickerbocker, smoking in an easy-chair four this is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John during breakfast the father of the present mr Washington had been a virginian a direct descendant of George Washington and Lord Baltimore at the close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old colonel with a played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold Fitz-Norman Culpeper Washington for that was the young colonel's name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger brother and go west. He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who of course worshipped him, and bought 25 tickets to the west, where he intended to take out land in their names and start a sheep and cattle ranch. When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were going very poorly indeed,

he stumbled on his great discovery. he had lost his way when riding in the hills and after a day without food he began to grow hungry as he was without his rifle he was forced to pursue a squirrel and in the course of the pursuit he noticed that it was carrying something shiny in its mouth just before it vanished into its hole for providence did not intend that this squirrel should alleviate his hunger it dropped its burden sitting down to consider the situation fitz norman's eye was caught by a a gleam in the grass beside him. In ten seconds he had completely lost his appetite and gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel which had refused with annoying persistence to become food had made him a present of a large and perfect diamond. Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later all the males among his darkies were back by the squirrel hole digging furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had discovered a rhinestone mine

and as only one or two of them had ever seen even a small diamond before they believed him without question when the magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him he found himself in a quandary the mountain was a diamond it was literally nothing else but solid diamond he filled four saddle-bags full of glittering samples and started on horseback for st paul there he managed to dispose of half a dozen small stones when he tried a larger one or storekeeper fainted and Fitz Norman was arrested as a public disturber. He escaped from jail and caught the train for New York, where he sold a few medium-sized diamonds and received in exchange about $200,000 in gold. But he did not dare to produce any exceptional gems. In fact, he left New York just in time.

Tremendous excitement had been created in jewelry circles, not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appearance in the city from mysterious sources. wild rumors became current that a diamond mine had been discovered in the cat-skills on the jersey coast on long island beneath washington square excursion trains packed with men carrying picks and shovels began to leave new york hourly bound for various neighboring el doradoes but by that time young fitznorman was on his way back to montana by the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the mountain was approximately equal in quantity to all the rest of the diamonds known to exist in the world there was no valuing it by any regular computation however for it was one solid diamond and if it were offered for sale not only would the bottom fall out of the market but also if the value should vary with its size in the usual arithmetical progress there would not be enough gold in the world to buy a tenth part of it and what could anyone do with a diamond that size it was an amazing predicament he was in one sense the richest man that ever lived and yet was he worth anything at all if his secret should transpire there was no telling to what measures the government might resort in order to prevent a panic in gold as well as in jewels they might take over the claim immediately and institute a monopoly there was no alternative. He must market his mountain in secret. He sent south for his younger brother and put him

in charge of his colored following, darkies who had never realized that slavery was abolished. To make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that he had composed, which announced that General Forrest had reorganized the shattered southern armies and defeated the North in one pitched battle. The Negroes believed him implicitly. They passed a vote, declaring it a good thing, and held revival services immediately. Fitz Norman himself set out for foreign parts with $100,000 and two trunks filled with rough diamonds of all sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk, and six months after his departure from Montana, he was in St. Petersburg. He took obscure lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweler, announcing that he had a diamond for the Tsar. He remained

in St. Petersburg for two weeks, in constant danger of being murdered. living from lodging to lodging and afraid to visit his trunks more than three or four times during the whole fortnight. On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he was allowed to leave for India. Before he left, however, the court treasurers had deposited to his credit in American banks the sum of $15 million, under four different aliases. He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over two. years. He had visited the capitals of 22 countries and talked with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a Shah, a Khan, and a Sultan. At that time Fitznorman estimated his own wealth at one billion dollars. One fact worked consistently against the disclosure of his

secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the public eye for a week before being invested with a history of enough fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars, to to have occupied it from the days of the first Babylonian Empire. From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of Fitz-Norman, Washington was a long epic in gold. There were side issues, of course. He evaded the surveys. He married a Virginia lady by whom he had a single son,

and he was compelled due to a series of unfortunate complications to murder his brother, whose unfortunate habit of drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times endangered their safety. But very few other murders stained these happy years of progress and expansion. Just before he died, he changed his policy, and with all but a few million dollars of his outside wealth bought up rare minerals in bulk,

which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world, marked as Brickaback. His son, Braddock Tarleton, Washington, followed this policy on an even more intensive scale. the minerals were converted into the rarest of all elements radium so that the equivalent of a billion dollars in gold could be placed in a receptacle no bigger than a cigar-box when fitz norman had been dead three years his son braddock decided that the business had gone far enough the amount of wealth that he and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond all exact computation he kept a note-book and cipher in which he set down the approximate quantity of radium in each of the thousand banks he patronized and recorded the alias under which it was held. Then he did a very simple thing. He sealed up the mine. He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would support all

the Washington's yet to be born an unparalleled luxury for generations. His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in the possible panic attendant on its discovery, he should be reduced with all the property holders in the world to utter poverty. this was the family among whom John T. Unger was staying. This was the story he heard in his silver-walled living-room the morning after his arrival. Five. After breakfast, John found his way out to the great marble entrance and looked curiously at the scene before him. The whole valley, from the diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still gave off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly

above the fine sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here and there clusters of elms made delicate grooves of shade, contrasting strangely with the tough masses of pine forest that held the hills in a grip of dark blue-green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns and single file, patter out from one clump about a half-mile away, and disappear with awkward gaiety into the black-ribbed half-light of another. John would not have been surprised to see a guy.

goat-foot piping his way among the trees, or to catch a glimpse of pink nymph-skin, and flying yellow hair between the greenest of the green leaves. In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing faintly the sleep of two sulky Russian wolfhounds at the bottom, and set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no particular direction. He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's felicity as well as its insufficiency that it can never live, in the present but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly imagined future flowers and gold girls and stars they are only prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable unattainable young dream

john rounded a soft corner where the masked rose bushes filled the air with heavy scent and struck off across a park toward a patch of moss under some trees he had never lain upon moss and he wanted to see whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an adjective. Then he saw a girl coming toward him over the grass. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of sapphire bound up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she came. She was younger than John, not more than sixteen.

Hello? she cried softly. i'm kismine she was much more than that to john already he advanced toward her scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on her bare toes you haven't met me said her soft voice her blue eyes added oh but you've missed a great deal you met my sister jasmine last night i was sick with lettuce poisoning went on her soft voice and her eye continued and when i'm sick i'm sweet and when i'm well you have made an enormous impression upon me said john's eyes and i'm not so slow myself how do you do added his voice i hope you're better this morning you darling added his eyes tremulously john observed that they had been walking along the path on her suggestion they sat down together upon the moss the softness of which he failed to determine he was critical about women a single defect a thick ankle a hoarse voice a glass eye was enough to make him utterly indifferent and here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to him the incarnation of physical perfection. Are you from the east? asked Kisman with charming interest. No, answered John simply. I'm from Hades. Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of no pleasant comment to make

upon it, for she did not discuss it further. I'm going east to school this fall, she said. Do you think I'll like it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulges. It's very strong. It's very but you see over the weekends i'm going to live at home with the family in our new york house because father heard that the girls had to go walking two by two your father wants you to be proud observed john we are she answered her eyes shining with dignity none of us has ever been punished father said we never should be once when my sister jasmine was a little girl she pushed him downstairs and he just got up and limped away mother was well a little startled continued kisman when she heard that you were from from where you are from you know she said that when she was a young girl but then you see she's a spaniard and old-fashioned do you spend much time out here asked john to conceal the fact that he was somewhat hurt by this remark it seemed an unkind allusion to his provincialism percy and jasmine and i are here every summer but next summer jasmine is going to newport she's coming out in london a year from this fall she'll be presented at court do you know began john hesitantly you're much more sophisticated than i thought you were when i first saw you oh no i'm not she exclaimed hurriedly oh i wouldn't think of being i think that sophisticated young people are terribly common don't you i'm not at all really if you say i am i'm going to cry she was so distressed that her lip was trembling john was impelled to protest i didn't mean that i only said it to tease you because i wouldn't mind if i were she perceived she perceived she was so distressed that she was impelled to protest i didn't mean that i only said it to tease you

because i wouldn't mind if i were she persisted but i'm not i'm very innocent and girlish i never smoke or drink or read anything except poetry i know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry i dress very simply in fact i scarcely dress it all i think sophisticated is the last thing you can say about me i believe that girls ought to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way i do too said john heartily kisman was cheerful again she smiled at him and a still-born tear dripped from the corner of one blue eye i like you she whispered intimately are you going to spend all your time with percy why they're here or will you be nice to me just think i'm absolutely fresh ground i've never had a boy in love with me and all my life i've never been allowed even to see boys alone except percy i came all the way out here into this grove hoping to run into you where the family wouldn't be around deeply flattered john bowed from the hips as he had been taught at dancing school in aides we'd better go now said kisman sweetly i have to be with mother at eleven you haven't asked me to kiss you once i thought boys always did that nowadays john drew himself up proudly some of them do he and answered, but not me. Girls don't do that sort of thing in Hades. Side by side they walked back toward the house. Six. John stood facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight.

The elder man was about forty, with a proud, vacuous face, intelligent eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horses, the best horses. He carried a plain walking stick of gray birch with a single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were showing john around the slaves quarters are there his walking-stick indicated a cloister of marble on their left that ran in graceful gothic along the side of the mountain in my youth i was distracted for a while from the business of life by a period of absurd idealism during that time they lived in luxury for instance i equipped every one of their rooms with a tile bath i suppose ventured john with an ingratiating laugh that they used the bathtub to keep coal in mr schnlitzer murphy told me that once he the opinions of mr sinlitzer murphy are of little importance i should imagine interrupted braddock washington coldly my slaves did not keep cold in their bath-dubs they had orders to bathe every day and they did if they hadn't i might have ordered a sulphuric acid shampoo i discontinued the baths for quite another reason several of them caught cold and died water is not good for a sulphuric acid shampoo i discontinued the baths for quite another reason several of them caught cold and died water is not good for for certain races, except as a beverage. John laughed and then decided to nod his head in sober

agreement. Braddock Washington made him uncomfortable. All these Negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought north with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You notice that they've lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them up to speak English. my secretary and two or three of the house servants this is the golf course he continued as they strolled along the velvet winter grass it's all a green you see no fairway no rough no hazards he smiled pleasantly at john many men in the cage father asked percy suddenly braddock washington stumbled and leapt forth an involuntary curse one less than there should be he ejaculated darkly and then added after a moment we've had difficulties mother was telling me exclaimed percy that italian teacher a ghastly error said braddock washington angrily but of course there's a good chance that we may have got him perhaps he fell somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff and then there's always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be believed nevertheless i've had two dozen men looking for him in different towns around here

and no lack some fourteen of them reported to my agent that each killed the man answering to that description but of course it was probably only the reward they were after he broke off they had come to a large cavity in the earth about the circumference of a merry-go-round and covered by a strong iron grating braddock washington beckoned to john and pointed his cane down through the grating john stepped to the edge and gazed immediately his ears were a safe by a wild clamor from below. Come on down to hell. Hello, kiddo, how's the air up there? Hey, throw us a rope. Got an old donut, buddy, or a couple of second-hand sandwiches? Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with,

will show you a quick disappearance scene. Face them one for me, will you? It was too dark to seek clearly into the pit below, but John could tell from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and voices that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more spirited type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the grass, and the scene below sprang into light. Those are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to discover El Dorado, he remarked. Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the

earth shaped like the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two dozen men clad in the half-costume half-uniform of aviators. Their upturned faces lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with cynical humor were covered by long growths of beard, but with the exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a well-fed, healthy lot. Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit and sat down. "'Well, how are you, boys?' he inquired genially. A chorus of execration, in which all joined except a few too dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock Washington heard it with unruffled composure.

When its last echo had died away, he spoke again. "'Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?' From here and there among them a remark floated up. "'We decided to stay here for love. "'Bring us up there and we'll find us away!' Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then he said, "'I've told you the situation. I don't want you here.

I wish to heaven I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any time that you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests, I'll be glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to digging tunnels, yes, I know about the new one you've started, you won't get very far. this isn't as hard on you as you make it out with all your howling for the loved ones at home if you were the type who worried much about the loved ones at home you'd never have taken up aviation a tall man moved apart from the others and held up his hand to call his captor's attention to what he was about to say

let me ask you a few questions he cried you pretend to be a fair-minded man absurd how could a man of my position be fair-minded toward you you might as well speak of a spaniard being fair-minded toward a piece of steak at this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen fell but the tall man continued all right he cried we've argued this out before you're not a humanitarian and you're not fair-minded but you're human at least you say you are and you ought to be able to put yourself in our place for long enough to think how how how what demanded washington coldly how unnecessary not to me well how cruel we've covered that cruelty doesn't exist where self-preservation is involved you've been soldiers you know that try another well then how stupid there admitted washington i grant you that but try to think of an alternative i've offered to have all or any of you painlessly executed if you wish i've offered to have your wives sweethearts children and mother's kidd and brought out here i'll enlarge your place down there and feed and clothe you the rest of your lives if there was some method of producing permanent amnesia i'd have all of you operated on and released immediately somewhere outside of my preserves but that's as far as my ideas go all about trusting us not to peach on you cried someone you don't proffer that suggestion seriously said washington with an expression of scorn i did take out one man to teach my daughter Italian. Last week he got away. A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats, and a pandemonium of joy ensued. The prisoners clog danced and cheered and

yodeled and wrestled with one another in a sudden uprush of animal spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl as far as they could and slid back to the bottom upon the natural cushions of their bodies. The tall man started a song in which they all joined. oh we'll hang the kaiser on a sour apple tree braddock washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was over you'll see he remarked when he could gain a modicum of attention i bear you no ill will i like to see you enjoying yourselves that's why i didn't tell you the whole story at once the man what was his name crick de kielo was shot by some of my agents in fourteen different places not guessing to that the places referred to were cities the tumult of rejoicing subsided immediately nevertheless cried washington with a touch of anger he tried to run away do you expect me to take chances with any of you after an experience like that again a series of ejaculations went up sure would your daughter like to learn chinese hey i can speak italian my mother was a mop maybe she'd like to learn a yawk if she'd like to learn a speak on a yawk if she'd like to learn a speak on a yawk if she'd like to learn a speak on a yawk if she'd she's the little one with the big blue eyes i can teach her a lot of things better than italian i know some irish songs i could hammer brass once mr washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and pushed the button in the grass so that the picture below went out instantly and there remained only that great dark mouth covered dismally with the black teeth of the grating

hey called a single voice from below you ain't goin away without giving us your blessing but mr washington followed by the two boys was already strolling on toward the ninth hole of the golf course as though the pit and its contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron had triumphed with ease seven july under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket nights and of warm glowing days john and kisman were in love he did not know that the little gold football inscribed with the legend prodeo at patria at st which he had given her rested on a platinum chain next to her bosom but it did and she for her part was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in john's jewel-box late one afternoon when the ruby and derman music-room was quiet they spent an hour there together he held her hand and she gave him such a look that he whispered her name aloud she bent toward him then hesitated did you say kismine she asked softly or she had wanted to be sure she thought she might have misunderstood neither of them had ever kissed before but in the course of an hour it seemed to make little difference the afternoon drifted away that night when the last breath of music drifted down from the highest tower they each lay awake happily dreaming over the separate minutes of the day they had decided to be married as soon as possible end of section six read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggy bark dot blogspot dot com section seven of tales of the jazz age by f scott fitzgerald this liber vox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins the diamond is big as the ritz part two eight every day mr washington and the two young

men went hunting or fishing in the deep forest or played golf around the Somnolent course games which John diplomatically allowed his host to win or swam in the mountain coolness of the lake John found mr. Washington a somewhat exacting personality utterly uninterested in any ideas or opinions except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and reserved at all times she was apparently indifferent to her two daughters and entirely absorbed in her son Percy with whom she held interminable conversations in rapid Spanish at dinner. Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kisman in appearance except that she was somewhat bow-legged and terminated in large

hands and feet, but was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her favorite books had to do with poor girls who kept house for widowed fathers. John learned from Kisman that Jasmine had never recovered from the shock and disappointment caused her by the termination of the world war, just as she was about to start for Europe as a canteen expert. She had even pined away for a time, and Braddock Washington had taken steps to promote a new war in the Balkans, but she had seen a photograph of some wounded Serbian soldiers and lost interest in the whole proceedings. But Percy and Kisman seemed to have inherited the arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence from their father. A chaste and consistent selfishness ran like a pattern through their every idea.

John was enchanted by the wonders of the chateau in the valley. Braddock Washington, so Percy told him, had caused to be kidnapped a landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a French decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put his entire force of negroes at their disposal, guaranteed to supply them with any materials that the world could offer, and left them to work out some of the world.

ideas of their own. But one by one they had shown their uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun bewailing his separation from the boulevards in spring. He made some vague remarks about spices, apes, and ivories, but said nothing that was of any practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to make the whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effects, a state of things that the Washington's would soon have grown tired of. And as for the architect and the landscape gardener they thought only in terms of convention they must make this like this and that like that but they had at least solved the problem of what was to be done with them they all went mad early one morning after spending the night in a single room trying to agree upon the location of a fountain and were now confined comfortably in an insane asylum at westport connecticut but inquired john curiously who did plan all your wonderful reception rooms and halls and appellers and approaches and bathrooms.

"'Well,' answered Percy, "'I blush to tell you, but it was a moving picture, fella. He was the only man we found who was used to playing with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his napkin in his collar and couldn't read or write.' As August drew to a close, John began to regret that he must soon go back to school. He and Kisman had decided to elope the following June. "'It would be nicer to be married here,' Kisman confessed. but of course i could never get father's permission to marry you at all next to that i'd rather elope it's terrible for wealthy people to be married in america at present they always have to send out bulletins to the press saying that they're going to be married in remnants when what they mean is just a peck of old second-hand pearls and some used lace worn once by the empress eugenie

i know agreed john fervently when i was visiting the schlitzer murfys the eldest daughter gwendolen married a man whose father owns half of westpherson Virginia. She wrote home saying what a tough struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerk, and then she ended up by saying that, Thank God I have four good maids anyhow, and that helps a little. It's absurd, commented Kisman. Think of the millions and millions of people in the world, laborers and all, who get along with only two maids. One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kisman's changed the face of the entire situation, and threw John into a state of terror.

They were in their favorite grove, and between kisses John was indulging in some romantic forebodings which he fancied added poignancy to their relations. "'Sometimes I think we'll never marry,' he said sadly. "'You're too wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other girls. I should marry the daughter of some well-to-do wholesale hardware man from Omaha or Sioux City and be content with her half-million.' "'I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once,' remarked Kisman. I don't think you'd have been contented with her. She was a friend of my sisters. She visited here. Oh, then you've had other guests, exclaimed John in surprise. Kisman seemed to regret her words.

Oh, yes, she said hurriedly. We've had a few. But aren't you? Wasn't your father afraid they'd talk outside? Oh, to some extent, to some extent, she answered. Let's talk about something pleasanter. But John's curiosity was aroused. "'Something pleasanter,' he demanded. "'What's unpleasant about that? "'Weren't they nice girls?' "'To his great surprise, Kisman began to weep.

"'Yes, that's the whole trouble. "'I'm quite attached to some of them. "'So did Chasman, but she kept inviting them anyway. "'I couldn't understand it.' "'A dark suspicion was born in John's heart. "'Do you mean that they told, "'and your father had them removed?' "'Worse than that,' she muttered brokenly.

took no chances and Jasmine kept writing them to come and they had such a good time she was overcome by a paroxysm of grief stunned with the horror of this revelation John sat their open mouth feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many sparrows perched upon his spinal column now I've told you and I shouldn't have she said calming suddenly and drying her dark blue eyes do you mean to say that your father had them murdered before they left she nodded In August, usually, early in September. It's only natural for us to get all the pleasure out of them that we can first. How abominable! How—why, I must be going crazy. Did you really admit that? I did, interrupted Kisman, shrugging her shoulders. We can't very well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a continual reproach to us every day, and it's always been made easier for Jasmine and me,

because Father had it done sooner than we expected. In that way we avoided any farewell scene. "'So you murdered them!' cried John. "'It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were asleep, and their families were always told that they died of scarlet fever and but. But I failed to understand why you kept on inviting them.' "'I didn't,' burst out Kisman. "'I never invited one. Jasmine did, and they always had a very good time. She'd give them the nicest presents, toward the last.

I shall probably have visitors, too. I'll harden up to it. we can't let such an inevitable thing as death stand in the way of enjoying life while we have it think of how lonesome it would be out here if we never had any one why father and mother have sacrificed some of their best friends just as we have and so cried john accusingly and so you were letting me make love to you and pretending to return it and talking about marriage all the time knowing perfectly well that i'd never get out of here alive no she protested passionately not any more i did at first you were here. I couldn't help that, and I thought your last days might as well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with you, and I'm honestly sorry you're going to be put away, though I'd rather you'd be put away than never kiss another girl. Oh, you would, would you? cried John ferociously. Much rather. Besides, I've always heard that a girl can have more fun with a man whom she knows she can never marry.

Oh, why did I tell you? I probably spoiled her whole good time now, and we were really enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would make things sort of depressing for you. Oh, you did, did you? John's voice trembled with anger. I've heard about enough of this. If you haven't any more pride and decency than to have an affair with a fellow

that you know isn't much better than a corpse, I don't want to have any more to do with you. You're not a corpse, she protested in horror. You're not a corpse. I won't have you saying that I kissed a corpse. I said nothing of the sort. You did. You said I kissed a corpse.

I didn't. Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps were coming along the path in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were parted, displaying Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set in his good-looking vacuous face were peering in at them. Who kissed the corpse? he demanded an obvious disapproval. Nobody, answered Kisman quickly. We were just joking. What are you two doing here, anyhow? bow he demanded gruffly kisman you ought to be to be reading or playing golf with your sister go read go play golf don't let me find you here when i come back then he bowed at john and went up the path see said kisman crossly when he was out of hearing you've spoiled it all we can never meet any more he won't let me meet you he'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love

"'We're not any more,' cried John fiercely, "'so he can set his mind at rest upon that. "'Moreover, don't fool yourself that I'm going to stay around here. "'Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains "'if I have to gnaw a passage through them, "'and on my way east. "'They had both got to their feet, "'and at this remark Kisman came close

"'and put her arm through his. "'I'm going, too.' "'You must be crazy.' "'Of course I'm going,' she interrupted impatiently. "'You most certainly are not. "'You?' "'Very well.' she said quietly we'll catch up with father and talk it over with him defeated john mustered a sickly smile very well dearest he agreed with pale and unconvincing affection we'll go together

his love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart she was his she would go with him to share his dangers he put his arms about her and kissed her fervently after all she loved him she had saved him in fact discussing the matter they walked slowly back toward the chateau They decided that since Braddock Washington had seen them together, they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips were unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great spoonful of peacock soup into his left lung. He had to be carried into the turquoise and sable card room and pounded on the back by one of the underbutlers, which Percy considered a great joke. Nine. Long after midnight, John's body gave a nervous jerk. He sat suddenly upright, staring into the bales of somnolence that draped the room. Through the squares of blue darkness that were his

open windows, he had heard a faint faraway sound that died upon a bed of wind before identifying itself on his memory, clouded with uneasy dreams. But the sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was just outside the room, the click of a turned knob, a footstep, a whisper he could not tell. A hard lump gathered in the pit of his stomach, and his whole body ached in the moment that he strained agonizingly to hear. Then one of the veils seemed to dissolve, and he saw a vague figure standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned and blocked in upon the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the drapery as to seem distorted, like a reflection from a dirty pane of glass. With a sudden movement of fright or resolution, John pressed the button by his bedside in the next

moment he was sitting in the green sunken bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by the shock of the cold water which half filled it. He sprang out and his wet pajamas, scattering a heavy trickle of water behind him, ran for the aquamarine door which he knew led out onto the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noiselessly. A single crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a poignant beauty. For a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendor masked about him, seeming to envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing then simultaneously two things happened the door of his own sitting-room swung open precipitating three naked negroes into the hall and as john swayed in wild terror toward the stairway another door slid back in the wall on the other side of the corridor and john saw braddock washington standing in the lighted lift wearing a fur coat and a pair of riding boots which reached to his knees

and displayed above the glow of his rose-colored pajamas. On the instant the three Negroes, John had never seen any of them before, and it flashed through his mind that they must be the professional executioners paused in their movement toward John, and turned expectantly to the man in the lift who burst out with an imperious command. Get in there, all three of you, quick as hell! Then within the instant the three Negroes darted into the cage. The oblong light was blotted out as the lift door slid shut,

and john was again alone in the hall he slumped weakly down against an ivory stare it was apparent that something portentous had occurred something which for the moment at least had postponed his own petty disaster what was it had the negroes risen in revolt had the aviators forced aside the iron bars of the grating or had the men of fish stumbled blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak joyless eyes upon the gaudy valley john did not know he heard a faint whirr of air as the lift whizzed up again and then a moment later as it descended it was probable that percy was hurrying to his father's assistance and it occurred to john that this was his opportunity to join kisman and plan an immediate escape he waited until until he was hurrying to his father's assistance and it occurred to john that this was his opportunity to join kisman and plan an immediate escape he waited until he waited until until the lift had been silent for several minutes. Shivering a little with the night cool that whipped in through his wet pajamas, he returned to his room and dressed himself quickly. Then he mounted a long flight of stairs and turned down the corridor, carpeted with Russian sable, which led to Kisman's suite. The door of her sitting-room was open and the lamps were lighted. Kisman in an Angora kimono stood near the window of the room in a listening attitude,

and as John entered noiselessly she turned toward him. Oh, it's you! She was. She was, whispered, crossing the room to him. Did you hear them? I heard your father's slaves in my— No, she interrupted excitedly. Aeroplanes? Airoplanes? Perhaps that was the sound that woke me. There, at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago, dead against the moon.

The guard backed by the cliff fired his rifle, and that's what roused father. We're going to open on them right away. Are they here on purpose? Yes, it's that Italian who got away. Simultaneously with her last. word, a succession of sharp cracks tumbled in through the open window. Kisman uttered a little cry, took a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and ran to one of the electric lights. In an instant the entire chateau was in darkness. She had blown out the fuse.

"'Come on,' she cried to him. We'll go up to the roof garden and watch it from there. Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand and they found their way out the door. It was only a step to the tower lift, and as she pressed the button that shot them upward, He put his arms around her in the darkness and kissed her mouth. Romance had come to John Unger at last. A minute later they had stepped out upon the star-white platform. Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and out of the patches of cloud that eddied below it, floated a dozen dark-winged bodies in a constant circling course.

From here and there in the valley flashes of fire leaked toward them, followed by sharp detonations. Kisman clapped her hands with pleasure, which a moment later turned to dismay as the aeroplanes, at some prearranged signal began to release their bombs, and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep, reverberate sound and lurid light. Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them was almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a park of rose bushes. "'Kisman!' begged John.

"'You'll be glad when I tell you that this attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard shoot off his gun back by the pass, I should now be stone dead. I can't hear you, cried Kisman, intent on the scene before her. You'll have to talk louder. I simply said, shouted John, that we'd better get out before they begin to shell the chateau. Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder. A geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great fragments of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake. there go fifty thousand dollars worth of slaves cried kisman at pre-war prices so few americans have any respect for property john renewed his efforts to compel her to leave the aim of the aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute and only two of the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating

it was obvious that the garrison encircled with fire could not hold out much longer come on cried john pulling kisman's arm we've got to go do you realize that those aviators will kill you without question if they find you she consented reluctantly we'll have to wake jasmine she said as they hurried toward the lift then she added in a sort of childish delight we'll be poor won't we like people and books and i'll be an orphan and utterly free free and poor what fun she stopped and raised her lips to him and a little bit of a little bit she stopped and raised her lips to him and a delighted kiss. It's impossible to be both together, said John grimly. People have found that out, and I should choose to be free as preferable of the two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your jewel box into your pockets. Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and they descended to the main floor of the chateau. Passing for the last time through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a moment out on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and the flaming embers of two plains which had fallen on the other side of

the lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and the attackers seemed timorous about descending lower, but sent their thunderous fireworks in a circle around it until any chance shot might annihilate its Ethiopian crew. John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned sharply to the left, and began to ascend a narrow path that wound like a garter about the diamond mountain. Kisman knew a heavily wooded spot halfway up where they could lie concealed and yet be able to observe the wild night in the valley, finally to make an escape, when it should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a rocky gully. It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The obliging and phlegmatic

Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kisman sat, his arm around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning. Shortly after four o'clock, the last remaining gun gave out a clanging sound and went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies were circling closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the beleaguered possessed no further resources, they would land and the dark and glittering rain of the Washington's would be over. With the cessation of the firing, the valley grew quiet.

The embers of the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouching in the grass. The chateau stood dark and silent, beautiful without light as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint. Then John perceived that Kisman, like her sister, had fallen sound asleep. it was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the path they had lately followed and he waited in breathless silence until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage point he occupied there was a faint stir in the air now that was not of human origin and the dew was cold he knew that the dawn would break soon john waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the mountain and were inaudible then he followed about half-way to the steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock spread itself over the diamond beneath just before he reached this point he slowed down his pace warned by an animal sense that there was life just ahead of him coming to a high boulder he lifted his head gradually above its edge his curiosity was rewarded this is what he saw

braddock washington was standing there motionless silhouetted against the gray sky without sound or sign of life as the dawn came up out of the east lending a gold-green color to the earth it brought the solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day while john watched his host remained for a few moments absorbed in some inscrutable contemplation then he signalled to the two negroes who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them as they struggled upright the first yellow beam of the sun struck through the innumerable prisms of an immense and exquisitely chiselled diamond and a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air like a fragment of the morning star the bearers staggered beneath its weight for a moment then their rippling muscles caught and hardened under the wet shine of their skins and the three figures were again motionless in their defiant impotency before the heavens after a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms in a gesture of attention as one who would call a great crowd to hear but there was no crowd only the vast silence of the mountain in the sky broken by faint bird voices down among the trees the figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and with an inextinguishable pride you out there he cried in a trembling voice you there he paused his arms still uplifted his head held attentively as though he were expecting an answer john strained his eyes to see whether there might be men coming down the mountain but the mountain was bare of human life there was only sky and a mocking flute of wind along the treetops could washington be praying for a moment john wondered then the illusion passed there was something in the man's whole attitude antithetical the prayer oh you above there the voice was becoming strong and confident this was no forlorn supplication if anything there was in it a quality of monstrous condescension

you there words too quickly uttered to be understood flowing one into the other john listened breathlessly catching a phrase here and there while the voice broke off resumed broke off again now strong and argumentative now coloured with a slow puzzled impatience then a conviction commenced to dawn upon the single listener and as realization crept over him a spray of quick blood rushed through his arteries braddock washington was offering a bribe to god that was it there was no doubt the diamond and the arms of his slaves was some advanced sample a promise of more to follow that john perceived after a time was the thread running through his sentences prometheus enriched was calling to witness forgotten sacrifices forgotten rituals prayers obsolete before the birth of christ for a while his discourse took the form of reminding god of this gift or that which divinity had deigned to accept from men Great churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive armies, of children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been offered up in lust or blood for his appeasel, buying a meads worth of alleviation from the

divine wrath, and now he, Braddock Washington, emperor of diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of splendor and luxury would offer up a treasure such as princes before him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance but in pride. He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with many more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger than a fly. Many men would work upon it, years. It would be set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be hollowed out a chapel presided over by an

altar of iridescent, decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out the eyes of any worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer, and on this altar there would be slain for the amusement of the divine benefactor any victim he should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most powerful man alive. In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be absurdly easy, only that matters should be as they were yesterday at this hour, and that they should so remain. So very simple. Let but the heavens open, swallowing these men in their airplanes and then close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to life and well. There was no one else with whom he had ever needed to treat or bargain. He doubted only whether

he had made his bribe big enough. God had his price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had been said. He must have his price, and the price would be rare. No cathedral whose building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand workmen, would be like this cathedral, this pyramid. He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to specifications, and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that it would be cheap at the price. he implied that providence could take it or leave it as he approached the end his sentences became broken became short and uncertain and his body seemed tense seemed strained to catch the slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him his hair had turned gradually white as he talked and now he lifted his head high to heavens like a prophet of old magnificently mad then as john stared in giddy fascination it seemed to him that a curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him it was as though the sky had darkened for an instant as though there had been a sudden murmur and a gust of wind a sound of far-away trumpets a sighing like the rustle of a great silken robe for a time the whole of nature round about partook of this

darkness. The bird's song ceased. The trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a mutter of dull, menacing thunder. That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen sun sent hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook until each bow was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused to. God had refused to. to accept the bribe. For another moment John watched the triumph of the day. Then, turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth. John slid off the

boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the clump of trees where the two girls were awake and waiting for him. Kisman sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no time for words. they must get off the mountain without losing a moment he seized a hand of each and in silence they threaded the tree trunks washed with light now and with the rising mist behind them from the valley came no sound at all except the complaint of the peacocks far away and the pleasant of mourning when they had gone about half a mile they avoided the parkland and entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground at the highest point of this they paused and turned around their eyes rested upon the mountain side they had just left oppressed by some dark sense of tragic impendency clear against the sky a broken white-haired man was slowly descending the steep slope followed by two gigantic and emotionless negroes who carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the sun half way down two other figures joined them john could see that they were mrs washington and her son upon whose arm she leaned the aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in front of the chateau and with rifles in hand were starting up the diamond mountain in skirmish formation but the little group of five which had formed farther up and was engrossing all the watchers attention had stopped upon a ledge of rock the negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a trap-door in the side of the mountain

into this they all disappeared the white-haired man first then his wife and son finally the two negroes the glittering tips of whose jeweled head-dresses caught the sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all kisman clutched john's arm oh she cried wildly where are they going what are they going to do it must be some underground way of escape a little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence don't you see sobbed kisman hysterically the mountain is wired even as she spoke john put up his hands to shield his sight before their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly to a dazzling burning yellow which showed up through the jacket of turf as light shows through a human hand for a moment the intolerable glow continued and then like an extinguished filament it disappeared revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly carrying off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh all the aviators there was left neither blood nor bone they were consumed as completely as the five souls who had gone inside simultaneously and with an immense concussion the chateau literally threw itself into the air bursting into flaming fragments as it rose and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay projecting half into the water of the lake there was no fire what smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine and for a few minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels there was no more sound and the three people were alone in the valley eleven at sunset john and his two companions reached the huge cliff which had marked the boundaries of the washington's dominion and looking back found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk they said that the sunset john and his two companions reached the huge cliff which had marked the boundaries of the washington's dominion and looking back found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk they sat down to finish the food which jasmine had brought with her in a basket there she said as she spread the table-cloth and put the sandwiches in a neat pile upon it don't they look tempting i always think that food tastes better outdoors with that remarked kisman jasmine enters the middle class

now said john eagerly turn out your pocket and let's see what jewels you brought along if you made a good selection we three ought to live comfortably all the rest of our lives obediently kisman put her hand in her pocket and tossed two handfuls of glittering stones before him not so bad cried john enthusiastically they aren't very big but hullo his expression changed as he held one of them up to the declining sun why these aren't diamonds there's something the matter "'My golly!' exclaimed Kisman, with a startled look. "'What an idiot I am!' "'Why, these are rhinestones!' cried John. "'I know,' she broke into a laugh. "'I opened the wrong drawer. They belonged on the dress of a girl who visited Jasmine.

"'I got her to give them to me in exchange for diamonds. "'I'd never seen anything but precious stones before.' "'And this is what you brought?' "'I'm afraid so,' she fingered the brilliance wistfully. "'I think I like these better. "'I'm a little tired of diamonds.' very well said john gloomily we'll have to live in hades and you will grow old telling incredulous women that you got the wrong drawer unfortunately your father's bank books were consumed with him well what's the matter with hades if i come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable as not to cut me off with a hot coal as they say down there jasmine spoke up i love washing she said quietly i have always washed my own handkerchiefs i'll take in laundry and support you both

Do they have wash women in Hades? asked Kisman innocently. Of course, answered John. It's just like anywhere else. I thought, perhaps it was too hot to wear any clothes. John laughed. Just try it, he suggested. They'll run you out before your half started. Will a father be there? she asked. John turned to her in astonishment. Your father is dead, he replied somberly. Why should he go to Hades? You have it confused with another place that was abolished long ago. after supper they folded up the table-cloth and spread their blankets for the night what a dream it was kisman sighed gazing up at the stars how strange it seems to be here with one dress and a penniless fiance

under the stars she repeated i never noticed the stars before i always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to some one now they frighten me they make me feel that it was all a dream all my youth it was a dream said john quietly everybody's youth is a dream a form of chemical madness how pleasant then to be insane so i'm told said john gloomily i don't know any longer at any rate let us love for a while for a year or two you and me that's a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try there are only diamonds in the whole world diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of disillusion well i have that last and i will make the usual nothing of it he shivered turn up your coat collar little girl the night's full of chill and you'll get pneumonia his was a great sin who first invented consciousness let us lose it for a few hours so wrapping himself in his blanket he fell off to sleep end of section seven read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark dot blogspot dot com section eight of tales of the jazz age by f scott fitzgerald this liber vox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins one as long ago as eighteen sixty it was the proper thing to be born at home at present so i am told the high gods of medicine have decreed that the first cries of the young shall be uttered upon the anaesthetic air of a hospital preferably a fashionable one so young mr and mrs roger button were fifty years ahead of their style when they decided one day in the summer of eighteen sixty that their first baby should be born in a hospital whether this anachronism had any bearing upon the astonishing history i am about to set down will never be known

i shall tell you what occurred and let you judge for yourself the roger buttones held an enviable position both social and financial in antebellum baltimore they were related to the this family and the that family which as every southerner knew entitled them to membership in that enormous peerage which largely populated the confederacy this was their first experience with the charming old custom of having babies mr button was naturally nervous he hoped it would be a boy so that he could be sent to yale college in connecticut at which institution mr button himself had been known for four years by this somewhat obvious nickname of cuff. On the September morning consecrated to the enormous event, he arose nervously at six o'clock, dressed himself, adjusted an impeccable stock, and hurried forth through the streets of Baltimore to the hospital to determine whether the darkness of the night had borne in new life upon its bosom. When he was approximately a hundred yards from the Maryland Private Hospital for Ladies and Gentleman, he saw Dr. Keene,

the family physician descending the front steps, rubbing his hands together with a washing movement, as all doctors are required to do by the unwritten ethics of their profession. Mr. Roger Button, the president of Roger Button and company, wholesale hardware, began to run toward Dr. Keane with much less dignity than was expected from a southern gentleman of that picturesque period. "'Dr. Keene,' he called.

"'Oh, Dr. Keene!' The doctor heard him, faced around, and stood waiting, a curious expression settling on his harsh, medicinal face, as Mr. Button drew near. "'What happened?' demanded Mr. Button as he came up in a gasping rush. "'What was it? How is she? A boy? Who is it? What?' "'Talk sands,' said Dr. Keen sharply. He appeared somewhat irritated. "'Is the child born?' begged Mr. Button. Dr. Keen frowned. "'Why, yes, I suppose so. After a fashion.' Again he threw a curious glance at Mr. Button.

"'Is my wife all right?' "'Yes. Is it a boy or a girl?' "'Here now,' cried Dr. Kean in a perfect passion of irritation. "'I'll ask you to go and see for yourself. Outrageous!' He snapped the last word out in almost one syllable. Then he turned away muttering. "'Do you imagine a case like this will help my professional reputation?

One more would ruin me. Ruin anybody.' "'What's the matter?' demanded Mr. Button, appalled. "'Triplets?' "'No, not triplets,' answered the doctor, cuttingly. "'What's more, you can go and see for yourself, and get another doctor. "'I've brought you into the world, young man, "'and I've been physician to your family for forty years,

"'but I'm through with you. "'I don't want to see you or any of your relatives ever again. "'Good-bye!' "'Then he turned sharply, and without another word, climbed into his phaeton, "'which was waiting at the curbstone, and drove severely away. Mr. Button stood there upon the sidewalk, stupefied and trembling from head to foot. What horrible mishap had occurred! He had suddenly lost all desire to go to the Maryland private hospital for ladies and gentlemen.

It was with the greatest difficulty that, a moment later, he forced himself to mount the steps and enter the front door. A nurse was sitting behind a desk in the opaque gloom of the hall. Swallowing his shame, Mr. Button approached her. Good morning. she remarked to looking up at him pleasantly good morning i-i am mr button at this a look of utter terror spread itself over the girl's face she rose to her feet and seemed about to fly from the hall restraining herself only with the most apparent difficulty i want to see my child said mr button the nurse gave a little scream oh of course she cried hysterically upstairs right upstairs go up she pointed the direction and mr button bathed in cool perspiration turned falteringly and began to mount to the second floor in the upper hall he addressed another nurse who approached him basin in hand i'm mr button he managed to articulate i want to see my clank the basin clattered to the floor and rolled in the direction of the stairs clank clank it began a methodical descend as if sharing in the general terror which this gentleman provoked

i want to see my child mr button almost shrieked he was on the verge of collapse clank the basin reached the first floor the nurse regained control of herself and threw mr button a look of hearty contempt all right mr button she agreed in a hushed voice very well but if you knew what a state has put us all in this morning it's perfectly outrageous the hospital will never have a ghost of a reputation after hurry he cried hoarsely i can't stand this come this way then mr button he dragged himself after her at the end of a long hall they reached a room from which proceeded a variety of howls indeed a room which in later parlance would have been known as the crying-room they entered well gasped mr button which is mine there said the nurse mr button's eyes followed her finger and this is what he saw wrapped in a voluminous white blanket and partly crammed into one of the cribs there sat an old man apparently about seventy years of age his sparse hair was almost white and from his chin dripped a long smoke-coloured beard which waved absurdly back and forth fanned by the breeze coming in at the window he looked up at mr button with dim faded eyes in which lurked a puzzled expression am i mad thundered mr button his terror resolving into rage is this some ghastly hospital joke it doesn't seem like a joke to us replied the nurse severely and i don't know whether you're mad or not but that is most certainly your child the cool perspiration redoubled on mr button's forehead he closed his eyes and then opening them looked again there was no mistake he was gazing at a man of three score and ten a baby of three score and ten a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the crib in which it was reposing the old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment and then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice

are you my father he demanded mr button and the nurse started violently because if you are went on the old man querulously i wish you'd get me out of this place or at least get dim to put a comfortable rocker in here. Where in God's name did you come from? Who are you? Burst out Mr. Button frantically. I can't tell you exactly who I am, replied the querulous whine. Because I've only been born a few hours, but my last name is certainly Button.

You lie, you're an imposter. The old man turned wearily to the nurse. Nice way to welcome a newborn child, he complained in a weak voice. Tell him he's wrong, why don't you? You're wrong, Mr. Button, said the nurse severely. This is your child, and you'll have to make the best of it. We're going to ask you to take him home with you as soon as possible, sometime today.

Home? repeated Mr. Button, incredulously. Yes, we can't have him here. We really can't, you know. I'm right glad of it, whined the old man. This is a fine place to keep a youngster of quiet tastes. With all this yelling and howling I haven't been able to get a wink of sleep. I asked for something to eat. his voice rose to a shrill note of protest, and they brought me a bottle of milk. Mr. Button sank down upon a chair

near his son and concealed his face in his hands. My heavens, he murmured, in an ecstasy of horror. What will people say? What must I do? You'll have to take him home, insisted the nurse, immediately. A grotesque picture formed itself with dreadful clarity before the eyes of the tortured man, a picture of himself, walking through the crowded streets of the city, with this appalling apparition stocking by his side. I can't, I can't, he moaned. People would stop to speak to him, and what was he going to say? He would have to introduce this, this septuagenarian. This is my son, born early this morning.

And then the old man would gather his blanket around him, and they would plod on. Past the bustling stores, the slave market, for a dark instant Mr. Button wished passionately that his son was black, past the luxurious houses of the residential district, past the home for the aged. Come, pull yourself together, commanded the nurse. See here, the old man announced suddenly. If you think I'm going to walk home in this blanket, you're entirely mistaken. Babies always have blankets. With a malicious crackle, the old man held up a small white swaddling garment. Look, he quavered, this is what they had ready for me. "'Babies always wear those,' said the nurse primly.

"'Well,' said the old man, "'this baby's not going to wear anything in about two minutes. "'This blanket itches. "'They might have at least given me a sheet.' "'Keep it on, keep it on,' said Mr. Button hurriedly. "'He turned to the nurse. "'What'll I do?' "'Go down and buy your son some clothes.'

"'Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the hall. "'And a cane, father. "'I want to have a cane.' Mr. Button banged the outer door savagely. Two. Good morning, Mr. Button said nervously to the clerk in the Chesapeake Dry Goods Company. I want to buy some clothes for my child. How old is your child, sir?

About six hours, answered Mr. Button without due consideration. Baby's supply department in the rear. Why, I don't think, I'm not sure that's what I want. It's, he's an unusually large-sized child. exceptionally large they have the largest child sizes where is the boys department inquired mr button shifting his ground desperately he felt that the clerk must surely send his shameful secret right here well he hesitated the notion of dressing his son in men's clothes was repugnant to him if say he could only find a very large boy's suit he might cut off that long and awful beard dye the horse and the whole white-haired brown, and thus managed to conceal the worst and to retain something of his own self-respect, not to mention his position in Baltimore society. But a frantic inspection of the

boys' department revealed no suits to fit the newborn button. He blamed the store, of course, in such cases it is the thing to blame the store. "'How old did you say that boy of yours was?' demanded the clerk curiously. "'He's sixteen.' oh i beg your pardon i thought you said six hours you'll find the youth's department in the next aisle mr button turned miserably away then he stopped brightened and pointed his finger toward a dressed dummy in the window display there he exclaimed i'll take that suit out there on the dummy the clerk stared why he protested that's not a child's suit at least it is but it's for fancy dress you could wear it yourself wrap it up insisted his customer nervously that's what i want the astonished clerk obeyed back at the hospital mr button entered the nursery and almost threw the package at his son here's your clothes he snapped out the old man untied the package and viewed the contents with a quizzical eye they look sort of funny to me he complained i don't want to be made a monkey of you've made a monkey of me retorted mr button fiercely never you mind how funny you look Put them on or I'll spank you.

He swallowed uneasily at the penultimate word, feeling nevertheless that it was the proper thing to say. All right, father, this was a grotesque simulation of filial respect. You've lived longer, you know best, just as you say, as before the sound of the word father caused Mr. Button to start violently. And hurry. I'm hurrying, father. When his son was dressed, Mr. Button regarded him

with depression. The costume consisted of dotted socks, pink pants, and a belted blouse with wide white collar. Over the latter waved the long whitish beard, drooping almost to the waist. The effect was not good. Wait! Mr. Button seized the hospital shears, and with three quick snaps amputated a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement, the ensemble fell far short of perfection. The remaining brush of scraggly hair, the watery eyes, the ancient teeth seemed oddly out of tone with the gaiety of the costume. Mr. Button, however, was obdurate. He held out his hand. Come along, he said sternly. His son took the hand trustingly. What are you going to call me, Dad? he quavered as they walked from the nursery.

Just baby for a while, till you think of a better name. Mr. Button grunted. I don't know, he answered harshly. I think we'll call you Methuselah. Three. Even after the new addition to the Button family had had his haircut short and then dyed to a sparse unnatural black, had had his face shaved so close that it glistened, and had been attired in small boy clothes made to order by a flabbergasted tailor, it was impossible for Button to ignore the fact that his son was a poor excuse for a first family baby. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button, where it was by this name they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious Methuselah, was five feet eight inches tall. His clothes did not conceal this,

nor did the clipping and dying of his eyebrows disguised the fact that the eyes under were faded and watery and tired. In fact, the baby nurse who had been engaged in advance left the house after one look in a state of considerable indignation. But Mr. Button persisted in his unwavering purpose. Benjamin was a baby and a baby he should remain. At first he declared that if Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could go without food altogether, but he was finally prevailed upon to allow his son bread and butter and even oatmeal by way of a compromise. One day he brought home a rattle and giving it to Benjamin insisted in no uncertain terms that he should play with it,

whereupon the old man took it with a weary expression and could be heard jingling it obediently at intervals throughout the day. There could be no doubt, though, that the rattle bored him and that he found other and more soothing amusements when he was left alone. For instance, Mr. Button discovered one day that during the preceding week he had smoked more cigars than ever before, a phenomenon which was explained a few days later. When entering the nursery unexpectedly, he found the room full of faint blue haze and Benjamin with a guilty expression on his face trying to conceal the butt of a dark havana. This, of course, called for

a severe spanking, but Mr. Button found that he could not bring himself to administer it. He merely warned his son that he would stunt his growth. Nevertheless, he persisted in his attitude. He brought home lead soldiers. He brought toy trains. He brought large, pleasant animals made of cotton, and to perfect the illusion which he was creating, for himself at least, he passionately demanded of the clerk in the toy store whether the paint would come off the pink duck if the baby put it in his mouth. But despite all his father's efforts, Benjamin refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs and return to the nursery with a volume of of the Encyclopedia Britannica, over which he would pour through an afternoon, while his cotton cows and his nose arc were left neglected on the floor.

Against such a stubbornness Mr. Button's efforts were of little avail. The sensation created in Baltimore was at first prodigious. What the mishap would have cost the Button's and their kinsfolk socially cannot be determined, for the outbreak of the civil war drew the city's attention to other things. A few people who were unfailingly polite racked their brains for compliments to give to the parents, and finally hit upon the ingenious device of declaring that the baby resembled his grandfather, a fact which, due to the standard state of decay, common to all men of 70, could not be denied. Mr. and Mrs. Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was furiously insulted.

Benjamin, once he left the hospital, took life as he found it. several small boys were brought to see him and he spent a stiff-jointed afternoon trying to work up an interest in tops and marbles he even managed quite accidentally to break a kitchen window with a stone from a slingshot a feat which secretly delighted his father thereafter benjamin contrived to break something every day but he did these things only because they were expected of him and because he was by nature obliging when his grandfather's initial antagonism wore off benjamin and that gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They would sit for hours, these two, so far apart in age and experience, and like old cronies, discuss with tireless monotony the slow events of the day. Benjamin felt more at ease in his grandfather's presence than in his parents. They seemed always somewhat in awe of him, and despite the dictatorial authority they exercised over him, frequently addressed him as Mr. He was as puzzled as anyone else at

the apparently advanced age of his mind and body at birth. He read up on it in the medical journal, but found that no such case had been previously recorded. At his father's urging, he made an honest attempt to play with other boys, and frequently he joined in the milder games. Football shook him up too much, and he feared that in case of a fracture his ancient bones would refuse to knit. When he was five, he was sent to kindergarten, where he initiated into the art of pasting green paper on orange paper, of weaving colored maps and manufacturing eternal cardboard necklaces. He was inclined to drows off to sleep in the middle of these tasks, a habit which both irritated and frightened his young teacher. To his relief, she complained to his parents and he

was removed from the school. The Roger Buttons told their friends that they felt he was too young. But by the time he was 12 years old, his parents had grown used to him, indeed so strong as the force of custom that they no longer felt that he was a little. different from any other child except when some curious anomaly reminded them of the fact. But one day a few weeks after his twelfth birthday, while looking in the mirror, Benjamin made or thought he made an astonishing discovery. Did his eyes deceive him or had his hair turned in the dozen years of his life from white to iron gray under its concealing dye? Was the network of wrinkles on his face becoming less pronounced? Was his skin healthier

and firmer with even a touch of ruddy winter color? He could. could not tell. He knew that he no longer stooped and that his physical condition had improved since the early days of his life. Can it be? he thought to himself, or rather scarcely dared to think. He went to his father. I am grown, he announced determinedly. I want to put on long trousers. His father hesitated. Well, he said finally, I don't know. Fourteen is the age for putting on long trousers and you are only twelve. But you'll have to admit, protested Benjamin, that I big for my age his father looked at him with illusory speculation oh i'm not so sure of that he said i was as big as you when i was twelve this was not true it was all part of roger button's silent agreement with himself to believe in his son's normality finally a compromise was reached benjamin was to continue to dye his hair he was to make a better attempt to play with boys of his own age he was not to wear his spectacles or carry a cane in the street in return turn for these concessions he was allowed his first suit of long trousers four of the life of benjamin button between his twelfth and twenty-first year i intend to say little suffice to record that they were years of normal ungrowth when benjamin was eighteen he was erect as a man of fifty he had more hair and it was of a dark grey his step was firm his voice had lost its cracked quaver and descended to a healthy baritone so his father sent him up to

Connecticut to take examinations for entrance to Yale College. Benjamin passed his examination and became a member of the freshman class. On the third day following his matriculation, he received a notification from Mr. Hart, the college registrar, to call at his office and arrange his schedule. Benjamin, glancing in the mirror, decided that his hair needed a new application of its brown dye, but an anxious inspection of his bureau drawer disclosed that the dye bottle was not there. Then he remembered. He had emptied it the day before and thrown it away. He was in a dilemma. He was due at the registrar's in five minutes. There seemed to be no help for it. He must go as he was. He did. Good morning, said the registrar politely. You've come to inquire about your son.

Why, as a matter of fact, my name's Button, began Benjamin, but Mr. Hart cut him off. I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Button. I'm expecting your son here any minute. minute. That's me, burst out, Benjamin. I'm a freshman. What? I'm a freshman. Surely you're joking. Not at all. The registrar frowned and glanced at a card before him. Why, I have Mr. Benjamin Button's age down here as eighteen. That's my age, asserted Benjamin, flushing slightly. The registrar eyed him wearily. No, surely, Mr. Button, you don't expect me to believe that.

Benjamin smiled wearily. I am 18, he repeated. The registrar pointed sternly to the door. Get out, he said. Get out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic. I am 18. Mr. Hart opened the door.

The idea, he shouted. A man of your age trying to enter here as a freshman. Eighteen years old, are you? Well, I'll give you 18 minutes to get out of town. Benjamin Button walked with dignity from the room and half a dozen undergraduates who were waiting in the hall followed him curiously with their eyes. When he had gone a little way he turned around, faced the infuriated registrar, who was still standing in the doorway and repeated in a firm voice,

I am eighteen years old. To a chorus of titters which went up from the group of undergraduates, Benjamin walked away. But he was not fated to escape so easily. On his melancholy walk to the railroad station, he found that he was being followed by a group, then by a swarm, and finally by a dense mass of undergraduates. The word had gone around that a lunatic had passed the entrance examinations for Yale and attempted to palm himself off as a youth of 18. A fever of excitement permeated the college.

Men ran hatless out of classes, the football team abandoned its practice and joined the mob, professors' wives with bonnets awry, and bustles out of position, ran shouting after the procession, from which proceeded a continual succession of rubeau. remarks aimed at the tender sensibilities of Benjamin Button. He must be the wandering Jew. We ought to go to prep school at his age.

Look at the infant prodigy. He thought this was the old men's home. Go up to Harvard! Benjamin increased his gate, and soon he was running. He would show them he would go to Harvard, and then they would regret these ill-considered taunts. Safely on board the train for Baltimore, he put his head from the window. You'll regret this, he shouted.

Ha, ha, ha, the undergraduates laughed. Ha, ha, ha! It was the biggest mistake that Yale College had ever made. Five. In 1880, Benjamin Button was 20 years old, and he signalled his birthday by going to work for his father and Roger Button and company, wholesale hardware. It was in that same year that he began going out socially,

that is, his father insisted on taking him to several fashionable dances. Roger Button was now fifty, and he and his son were more and more companionable. In fact, since Benjamin had ceased to dye his hair, which was still grayish, they appeared about the same age and could have passed for brothers. One night in August they got into the Fayton, attired in their full-dress suits, and drove out to a dance at the Shevlin's Country House, situated just outside of Baltimore. It was a gorgeous evening.

A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless color of platinum, and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air aromans that were like low half-hearted laughter the open country carpeted for rods around with bright wheat was translucent as in the day it was almost impossible not to be affected by the sheer beauty of the sky almost there's a great future in the dry goods business roger button was saying he was not a spiritual man his aesthetic sense was rudimentary old fellows like me can't learn new tricks he observed profoundly it's you youngsters with energy and vitality that have the great future before you far up the road the lights of the chevlin's country house drifted into view and presently there was a sighing sound that crept persistently toward them it might have been the fine plaint of violins or the rustle of the silver wheat under the moon they pulled up behind a handsome brougham whose passengers were disembarking at the door a lady got out then an elderly gentleman, then another young lady, beautiful as sin. Benjamin started. An almost chemical change seemed to dissolve and recompose the very elements of his body.

A rigor passed over him. Blood rose into his cheeks, his forehead, and there was a steady thumping in his ears. It was first love. The girl was slender and frail with hair that was ashen under the moon and honey-colored under the spluttering gas-lamps of the porch. Over her shoulders was thrown a Spanish mantilla of softest yellow, butterflyed in black. Her feet were glittering buttons at the hem of her bustled dress. Roger Button leaned over his son.

That, he said, is young Hildegard Moncrief, the daughter of General Moncrief? Benjamin nodded coldly. Pretty little thing, he said indifferently. But when the negro boy had led the buggy away, he added, Dad, you might introduce me to her. They approached the group of which Miss Moncrief was the center. Reared in the old tradition she curtsied low before Benjamin. Yes, he might have a dance.

He thanked her and walked away, staggered away. The interval until the time for his turn should arrive dragged itself out interminably. He stood close to the wall, silent, inscrutable, watching with murderous eyes the young bloods of Baltimore as they eddied around Hildegard Moncrief, passionate admiration in their faces. how obnoxious they seemed to benjamin how intolerably rosy their curling brown whiskers aroused in him a feeling equivalent to indigestion but when his own time came and he drifted with her out upon the changing floor to the music of the latest waltz from paris his jealousies and anxieties melted from him like a mantle of snow blind with enchantment he felt that life was just beginning

you and your brother got here just as we did didn't you asked hildegarde looking up at him with eyes that were like bright blue enamel benjamin hesitated if she took him for his father's brother would it be best to enlighten her he remembered his experience at yale so he decided against it it would be rude to contradict a lady it would be criminal to mar this exquisite occasion with the grotesque story of his origin later perhaps so he nodded smiled listened and was happy i like men of your age hildegarde told him young boys are so idiotic they tell me how much champagne they drink at college and how much money they lose playing cards men of your age know how to appreciate women benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal with an effort he choked back the impulse you're just the romantic age she continued fifty twenty-five is too worldly wise thirty is apt to be pale from overwork forty is the the age of long stories that take a whole cigar to tell sixty is oh sixty is too near seventy but fifty is the mellow age i love fifty fifty seemed to benjamin a glorious age he longed passionately to be fifty i've always said went on hildegarde that i'd rather marry a man of fifty and be taken care of than marry a man of thirty and take care of him for benjamin the rest of the evening was bathed in a honey-colored mist hildegarde gave him two more dances, and they discovered that they were marvelously in accord on all the questions of the day. She was to go driving with him on the following Sunday, and then they would discuss

all these questions further. Going home in the phaeton just before the crack of dawn, when the first bees were humming and the fading moon glimmered in the cool dew, Benjamin knew vaguely that his father was discussing wholesale hardware. And what do you think should merit our biggest attention after hammers and nails? The elder button was saying. love replied benjamin absent-mindedly lugs exclaimed roger button why i've just covered the question of lugs benjamin regarded him with dazed eyes just as the eastern sky was suddenly cracked with light and an orio yawned piercingly in the quickening trees six when six months later the engagement of miss hildegarde moncrieff to mr benjamin button was made known i say made known for general moncrieff declared that he would rather fall upon his sword than announce it the excitement in baltimore society reached a feverish pitch the almost forgotten story of benjamin's birth was remembered and sent out upon the winds of scandal in picaresque and incredible forms it was said that benjamin was really the father of roger button that he was his brother who had been in prison for forty years that he was john wilkes booth in disguise and finally that he had two small conical horns sprouting from his head

the sunday supplements of the new york papers played up the case with fascinating sketches which showed the head of benjamin button attached to a fish to a snake and finally to a body of solid brass he became known journalistically as the mystery man of maryland but the true story as is usually the case had a very small circulation however every one agreed with general moncrieff that it was criminal for a lovely girl who could have married any beau in baltimore to throw herself into the arms of a man who was assuredly fifty in vain mr roger button publicised his son's birth certificate in large type in the baltimore blaze no one believed it you had only to look at benjamin and to see on the part of the two people most concerned there was a large type of the baltimore on the part of the two people most concerned there was no wavering so many of the stories about her fiance were false that hildegarde refused stubbornly to believe even the true one in vain general moncrieff pointed out to her the high mortality among men of fifty or at least among men who looked fifty in vain he told her of the instability of the wholesale hardware business hildegarde had chosen to marry for mellowness and marry she did seven in one particular at least the friends of hildegarde montcrieff were mistaken the wholesale hardware business prospered amazingly in the fifteen years between benjamin button's marriage in eighteen eighty and his father's retirement in eighteen ninety five the family fortune was doubled and this was due largely to the younger member of the firm needless to say baltimore eventually received the couple to its bosom even old general moncrieff became reconciled to its bosom even old general moncrieff became reconciled to the firm through his son-in-law when Benjamin gave him the money to bring out his history of the Civil War in

twenty volumes, which had been refused by nine prominent publishers. In Benjamin himself, fifteen years had wrought many changes. It seemed to him that the blood flowed with new bigger through his veins. It began to be a pleasure to rise in the morning, to walk with an active step along the busy sunny street, to work untiringly with his shipments of hammers and his cargoes of nails. It was in 1890 that he executed his famous business coup. He brought up the suggestion that all nails used in nailing up the boxes in which nails are shipped are the property of the shipee, a proposal which became a statute, was approved by Chief Justice Fossil, and saved Roger Button and company wholesale hardware more than 600 nails every year.

In addition, Benjamin discovered that he was becoming more and more attracted by the gay-sighted life. It was typical of his growing enthusiasm for pleasure that he was the first man in the city of Baltimore to own and run an automobile. Meeting him on the street, his contemporaries would stare enviously at the picture he made of health and vitality. He seems to grow younger every year, they would remark, and if old Roger Button, now 65 years old, had failed at first to give a proper welcome to his son, he atoned at least by bestowing on him what amounted to adulation. and here we come to an unpleasant subject which it will be well to pass over as quickly as possible there was only one thing that worried benjamin button his wife had ceased to attract him at the time hildegarde was a woman of thirty-five with a son rossco fourteen years old in the early days of their marriage benjamin had worshipped her but as the years passed her honey-coloured hair became an unexciting brown the blue enamel of her eyes assumed the aspect of cheap crockery

moreover and most of all she had become too settled in her ways too placid too content too anemic in her excitements and too sober in her taste as a bride it had been she who had dragged benjamin to dances and dinners now conditions were reversed she went out socially with him but without enthusiasm devoured already by that eternal inertia which comes to live with each of us one day and stays with us to the end benjamin's discontent waxed stronger at the outbreak of the spanish-american war in eighteen ninety eight his home had for him so little charm that he decided to join the army with his business influence he obtained a commission as captain and proved so adaptable to the work that he was made a major and finally a lieutenant colonel just in time to participate in the celebrated charge up san juan hill he was slightly wounded and received a medal benjamin had become so attached to the activity and excitement of army life that he regretted to give it up but his business required attention so he resigned his commission and came home he was met at the station by a brass band and escorted to his house eight hildegarde waving a large silk flag greeted him on the porch and even as he kissed her he felt with a sinking of the heart that these three years had taken their toll she was a woman of forty now with a faint skirmish line of gray hairs in her head the sight depressed him up in his room he saw his reflection in the familiar mirror he went closer and examined his own face with anxiety comparing it after a moment with a photograph of himself in uniform taken just before the war

good lord he said aloud the process was continuing there was no doubt of it he looked now like a man of thirty instead of being delighted he was uneasy he was growing younger he had hitherto hoped that once he reached a bodily age equivalent to his age in years the grotesque phenomenon which had marked his birth would cease to function he shuddered his destiny seemed to him awful incredible when he came downstairs hildegarde was waiting for him she appeared annoyed and he wondered if she had at last discovered that there was something amiss it was with an effort to relieve the tension between them that he broached the matter at dinner in what he considered a delicate way well he remarked lightly everybody says i look younger than ever hildegarde regarded him with scorn she sniffed do you think it's anything to boast about i'm not boasting he asserted uncomfortably She sniffed again. "'The idea,' she said after a moment. "'I should think you'd have enough pride to stop it.' "'How can I?' he demanded.

"'I'm not going to argue with you,' she retorted, "'but there's a right way of doing things in a wrong way. "'If you've made up your mind to be different from everybody else, "'I don't suppose I can stop you, "'but I really don't think it's very considerate. "'But Hildegarde, I can't help it.' "'You can too. You're simply stubborn. "'You think you don't want to be like any one else.

you always have been that way and you always will be but just think how it would be if everyone else looked at things as you do what would the world be like as this was an inane and unanswerable argument benjamin made no reply and from that time on a chasm began to widen between them he wondered what possible fascination she had ever exercised over him to add to the breach he found as the new century gathered headway that his thirst for gaiety grew stronger never a party of any kind in the city of baltimore but he was there dancing with the prettiest of the young married women chatting with the most popular of the debaunts and finding their company charming while his wife a dowager of evil omen sat among the chaperones now in haughty disapproval and now following him with solemn puzzled and reproachful eyes look people would remark what a pity a young fellow of that age tied to a woman of forty-five he must be twenty years younger than his wife they had forgotten as people inevitably forget that back in eighteen eighty their mamas and papas had also remarked about this same ill-matched pair benjamin's growing unhappiness at home was compensated for by his many new interests he took up golf and made a great success of it he went in for dancing in nineteen o six he was an expert at the boston and in nineteen o eight he was considered proficient at the maxine while in nineteen o nine his castle walk was the envy of every young man in town. His social activities, of course, interfered to some extent with his business, but then he had worked hard at wholesale hardware for 25 years and felt that he could soon

hand it on to his son Roscoe, who had recently graduated from Harvard. He and his son were, in fact, often mistaken for each other. This pleased Benjamin. He soon forgot the insidious fear which had come over him on his return from the Spanish-American War, and grew to take a naive pleasure in his appearance. There was only one fly in the delicious ointment. He hated to appear in public with his wife. Hildegard was almost 50, and the sight of her made him feel absurd. Nine. One September day in 1910, a few years after Roger Button and company wholesale hardware had been handed over to young Roscoe Button, a man, apparently about 20 years old, entered himself as a freshman at Harvard University in Cambridge. He did not make the mistake of

announcing that he would never see fifty again, nor did he mention the fact that his son had been graduated from the same institution ten years before. He was admitted, and almost immediately attained a prominent position in the class, partly because he seemed a little older than the other freshman, whose average age was about 18. But his success was largely due to the fact that in the football game, with Yale, he played so brilliantly and with so much dashed and with such a cold, remorseless anger that he scored seven touchdowns and fourteen field goals for Harvard and caused one entire eleven of Yale men to be carried singly from the field unconscious. He was the most celebrated man in college. Strange to say, in his third or junior year he was scarcely able to make

the team. The coaches said that he had lost weight, and it seemed to the more observant among them that he was not quite as tall as before. He made no touchdowns. Indeed, he was retained on the chiefly in hope that his enormous reputation would bring terror and disorganization to the Yale team. In his senior year he did not make the team at all. He had grown so slight and frail that one day he was taken by some sophomores for a freshman, an incident which humiliated him terribly. He became known as something of a prodigy, a senior who was surely no more than 16, and he was often shocked at the worldliness of some of his classmates. His studies seemed harder to him. He felt that they were too advanced. He had heard his classmates speak of St. Midas's, the famous

preparatory school, at which so many of them had prepared for college, and he determined after his graduation to enter himself at St. Midas's, where the sheltered life among boys his own size would be more congenial to him. Upon his graduation in 1914, he went home to Baltimore with his Harvard diploma in his pocket. Hildegard was now residing in Italy, so Benjamin went to live with his son, Roscoe. But though he was welcomed in a general way, there was obviously no heartiness in Roscoe's feeling toward him. There was even perceptible a tendency on his son's part to think that Benjamin, as he moped about the house in adolescent mooniness, was somewhat in the way.

Roscoe was married now and prominent in Baltimore life, and he wanted no scandal to creep out in connection with his family. Benjamin, no longer persona grata with the debutants and younger college set, found himself left much done, except for the companionship of three or four fifteen-year-old boys in the neighborhood. His idea of going to St. Midas's school recurred to him. Say, he said to Roscoe one day, I've told you over and over that I want to go to prep school. Well, go then, replied Roscoe shortly. The matter was distasteful to him, and he wished to avoid a discussion. I can't go alone, said Benjamin helplessly. You'll have to enter me and take me up there.

I haven't got time, declared Roscoe abruptly. His eyes narrowed and he looked uneasily at his father. As a matter of fact, he added, you'd better not go on with this business much longer. You better pull up short. You better, you better. He paused in his face crimsoned as he sought for words. You better turn right around and start back the other way.

This has gone too far to be a joke. It isn't funny any longer. You, you behave yourself. Benjamin looked at him on the verge of tears. and another thing continued roscoe when visitors are in the house i want you to call me uncle not roscoe but uncle do you understand it looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my first name perhaps you'd better call me uncle all the time so you'll get used to it with a harsh look at his father roscoe turned away ten at the termination of this interview benjamin wandered dismally upstairs and stared at himself in the mirror he had not shaved for three months months, but he could find nothing on his face but a faint white down, with which it seemed unnecessary to metal. When he had first come home from Harvard, Roscoe had approached him with

the proposition that he should wear eyeglasses and imitation whiskers glued to his cheeks, and it had seemed for a moment that the farce of his early years was to be repeated. But whiskers had itched and made him ashamed. He wept, and Roscoe had reluctantly relented. Benjamin opened a book of boys' stories, the Boy Scouts in Bimini Bay, and began to read, but he found himself thinking persistently about the war. America had joined the Allied cause during the preceding month, and Benjamin wanted to enlist, but alas, 16 was the minimum age, and he did not look that old. His true age, which was 57, would have disqualified him anyway. There was a knock at his door, and the butler appeared with a letter,

bearing a large official legend in the corner and addressed to Mr. Benjamin Button. Benjamin tore it open eagerly and read the enclosure with delight. It informed him that many reserve officers who had served in the Spanish-American War were being called back into service with a higher rank, and it enclosed his commission as Brigadier General in the United States Army with orders to report immediately. Benjamin jumped to his feet, fairly quivering with enthusiasm. This was what he had wanted. He seized his cap, and ten minutes later he had entered a large tailoring establishment on Charles Street, and asked in his uncertain treble to be measured for a uniform. Want to play soldier, sonny? demanded the clerk casually. Benjamin flushed. Say, never mind what I want,

he retorted angrily. My name's Button, and I live on Mount Vernon Place, so you know I'm good for it. Well, admitted the clerk hesitantly, if you're not, I guess your daddy is all right. benjamin was measured and a week later his uniform was completed he had difficulty in obtaining the proper generals insignia because the dealer kept insisting to benjamin that a nice v w c a badge would look just as well and be much more fun to play with saying nothing to roscoe he left the house one night and proceeded by train to camp mosby in south carolina where he was to command an infantry brigade on a sultry april day he approached the entrance to the camp paid off the taxi-cab which had brought him from the station, and turned to the sentry on guard. "'Get someone to handle my luggage,' he said briskly. The sentry eyed him reproachfully. "'Say,' he remarked, "'where you going with the generals duds, Sonny?' Benjamin, veteran of the Spanish-American War, whirled upon him with fire in his eye,

but with alas a changing, troubled voice. "'Come to attention!' he tried to thunder. He paused for breath. Then suddenly he saw the sentry snap his heels together, and bring his rifle to the present. Benjamin concealed a smile of gratification, but when he glanced around, his smile faded. It was not he who had inspired obedience, but an imposing artillery colonel who was approaching on horseback. "'Colonel?' called Benjamin shrilly.

The colonel came up, drew rein, and looked coolly down at him with a twinkle in his eyes. "'Those little boy are you?' he demanded kindly. "'I'll soon darn well show you whose little boy I am,' retorted Benjamin in a ferocious voice. Get down off that horse! The Colonel roared with laughter. Do you want him, Ed General?

Here, cried Benjamin desperately. Read this, and he thrust his commission toward the Colonel. The Colonel read it, his eyes popping from their sockets. Where'd you get this? he demanded, slipping the document into his own pocket. I got it from the government, as you'll soon find out. You come along with me, said the Colonel with a peculiar look. We'll go up to headquarters and talk this. over. Come along. The colonel turned and began walking his horse in the direction of headquarters.

There was nothing for Benjamin to do but follow with as much dignity as possible, meanwhile promising himself a stern revenge. But this revenge did not materialize. Two days later, however, his son Roscoe materialized from Baltimore, hot and crossed from a hasty trip, and escorting the weeping general, Sons' uniform, back to his home. 2. In 1920, Roscoe Button's first child was born. During the attendant festivities, however, no one thought it the thing to mention that the little grubby boy apparently about ten years of age who played around the house with lead soldiers in a miniature circus was the new baby's own grandfather. No one disliked the little boy, whose fresh, cheerful face was crossed with just a hint

of sadness, but to Roscoe Button his presence was a source of torment. In the idiom of his generation, Roscoe did not consider the matter efficient. It seemed to him that his father, in refusing to look sixty, had not behaved like a red-blooded he-man. This was Roscoe's favorite expression, but in a curious and perverse manner. Indeed, to think about the matter for as much as a half an hour drove him to the edge of insanity.

Roscoe believed that live wires should keep young, but carrying out on such a scale was, was inefficient. And there Roscoe rested. Five years later Roscoe's little boy had grown old enough to play childish games with little Benjamin under the supervision of the same nurse. Roscoe took them both to kindergarten on the same day and Benjamin found that playing with little strips of colored paper, making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most fascinating game in the world. Once he was bad and had to stand in the corner, then he cried, but for the most part, there were games. hours in the cheerful room and the sunlight coming in the windows and miss Bailey's kind hand resting for a moment now and then in his tousled hair Roscoe's son moved up into

the first grade after year but Benjamin stayed on in the kindergarten he was very happy sometimes when other tots talked about what they would do when they grew up a shadow would cross his little face as if in a dim childish way he realized that those were things in which he was never to share the days flowed on in monotonous content. He went back a third year to the kindergarten, but he was too little now to understand what the bright shining strips of paper were for. He cried because the other boys were bigger than he and he was afraid of them. The teacher talked to him, but though he tried to understand he could not understand at all. He was taken from the kindergarten. His nurse, Nana, in her

starched gingham dress, became the center of his tiny world. On bright days they walked in the park. Nana would point at a great gray monster and say, and Benjamin would say it after her. And when he was being undressed for bed that night he would say it over and over aloud to her. Elephant, elephant, elephant! Sometimes Nana let him jump in the bed, which was fun, because if you sat down exactly right,

it would bounce you up on your feet again, and if you said, Ha! For a long time while you jumped, you got a very pleasing broken vocal effect. He loved to take a big cane from the hat-rack and go around hitting chairs and tables, with it saying, fight, fight, fight!

When there were people there, the old ladies would pluck at him, which interested him, and the young ladies would try to kiss him, which he submitted to with mild boredom, and when the long day was done at five o'clock, he would go upstairs with Nana to be fed on oatmeal and nice, soft, mushy foods with a spoon. There were no troublesome memories in his childish sleep. No token came to him of his brave days at college, of the glittering years when he flustered the hearts of many girls. There were only the white, safe walls of his crib, and Nana and a man who came to see him sometimes, and a great big orange ball that Nana pointed at just before his

twilight bed hour and called, son. When the sun went, his eyes were sleepy. There were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him. The past, the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill, the first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk down in the busy city for young Hildegard, whom he loved, the days before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old Button House on Monroe Street with his grandfather, all those had faded like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. He did not remember. He did not remember clearly whether the milk was warm or cool at his last feeding or how the days passed. There was only his crib and Nana's familiar presence. And then he remembered nothing. When he was hungry,

he cried, that was all. Through the noons and nights he breathed, and over him there were soft mumblings and murmurings that he scarcely heard and faintly differentiated smells and light and darkness. Then it was all dark, and his white crib, and the dim faces that moved above him, and the warm, sweet aroma of the milk faded out altogether from his mind. End of Section 8. Read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, Shaggybart. Dot Blogspot.com Section 9 of Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

This Liber Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Tarquin of Cheapside. Running footsteps, light, soft-sold shoes made of curious, leathery, cloth brought from salon setting the pace. Thick flowing boots, two pairs, dark blue and gilt, reflecting the moonlight in blunt gleams and splotches, following a stone's throw behind. Soft shoes flashes through a patch of moonlight, then darts into a blind labyrinth of valleys and becomes only an intermittent scuffle ahead somewhere in the unfolding darkness.

In go-flowing boots, with short swords lurching and long plumes awry, finding a breath to curse god in the black lanes of London. Soft shoes leaps a shadowy gate and crackles through a hedgerow. Flowing boots leap the gate and crackles through the hedgerow and there, startlingly, is the watch ahead. Two murderous pikemen of ferocious cast of mouth acquired in Holland and the Spanish marches. But there is no cry for help. The pursuit does not fall panting at the feet of the watch, clutching a purse.

Neither do the pursuers raise a hue and cry. soft shoes goes by in a rush of swift air the watch curse and hesitate glance after the fugitive and then spread their pikes grimly across the road and wait for flowing boots darkness like a great hand cuts off the even flow of the moon the hand moves off the moon whose pale caress finds again the eaves and lentils and the watch wounded and tumbled in the dust up the street one of the flowing boots leaves a black trail of spots until he binds again the eaves and lentils and the watch wounded and tumbled in the dust up the street one of the flowing boots leaves a black trail of spots until he binds himself clumsily as he runs with fine lace caught from his throat. It was no affair for the watch. Satan was at large tonight, and Satan seemed to be he who appeared dimly in front, heel over gate, knee over fence. Moreover, the adversary was obviously traveling near home, or at least in that section of London consecrated to his coarser whims, for the street narrowed like a road in a picture, and the house is bent over further and further, cooping in natural ambushes,

suitable for murder and its historic sister, sudden death. Down long and sinuous lanes twisted the hunted and the Harriers, always in and out of the moon in a perpetual queen's move over a checkerboard of glints and patches. Ahead, the quarry, minus his leather jerkin now and half-blinded by drips of sweat, had taken to scanning his ground desperately on both sides. As a result, he suddenly slowed short, and retracing his steps a bit, Scooted up an alley so dark that it seemed that here sun and moon had been an eclipse since the last glacier slipped roaring over the earth. Two hundred yards down he stopped and crammed himself into a niche in the wall where he huddled and panted silently, a grotesque god without bulk or outline in the gloom.

Flowing boots, two pairs drew near, came up, went by, halted twenty yards beyond him, and spoke in deep-lunged, scanty whispers. I was attuned to that scuffle. It stopped. Within twenty paces. He's head. Stay together now and we'll cut him up. The voice faded into a low crunch of boot, nor did soft shoes wait to hear more. He sprang in three leaps across the alley where he bounded up, flapped for a moment on the top of the wall like a huge bird and disappeared, gulped down by the hungry night at a mouthful. 2. He read at wine, he read in bed, he read aloud, had he breath, his every thought was with the dead, and so he read himself to death. Any visitor to the old James I graveyard near Peets Hill may spell out this bit of doggerel, undoubtedly one of the worst recorded of an Elizabethan on the tomb of Wessel Caster.

This death of his, says the antiquary, occurred when he was 37, but as this story is concerned with the night of a certain chase through the darkness we find him still alive still reading his eyes were somewhat dim his stomach somewhat obvious he was a misbuilt man and indolent oh heavens but an era is an era and in the reign of elizabeth by the grace of luther queen of england no man could help but catch the spirit of enthusiasm every loft in cheapside published its magnum folium or magazine of its new blank verse the cheapside players would produce anything on sight as long as it got away from those reactionary miracle plays and the english bible had run through seven very large printings in as many months so wessell caxter who in his youth had gone to see was now a reader of all on which he could lay his hands he read manuscripts and holy friendship he dined rotten poets he loitered about the shops where the magnifolia were printed and he listened tolerantly while the young playwrights wrangled and bickered among themselves and behind each other's backs made bitter and malicious charges of plagiarism or anything else they could think of tonight he had a book a piece of work which though inordinately versed contained he thought some rather excellent political satire the fairy queen by edmund spencer lay before him under the tremulous candlelight he had ploughed through a cantoe he was beginning another the legend of brittomartis or of chastity it falls me here to write of chastity the fairest virtue far above the rest a sudden rush of feet on the stairs a rusty swing open of the thin door and a man thrust himself into the room a man without a jerkin panting sobbing on the verge of collapse

wessel words choked him stick me away somewhere love of our lady caxter rose carefully closing his book and bolted the door in some concern i'm pursued cried out soft shoes i vow there's two short-witted blades trying to make me into mincemeat and near succeeding they saw me hopped the back wall it would need said wessel looking at him curiously several battalions armed with blunderbusses and two or three armadies to keep you reasonably secure from the revenge of the world soft shoes smiled with satisfaction his sobbing gasps were giving way to quick precise breathing his hunted air had faded to a faintly perturbed irony i feel a little surprise continued wessel they were two such dreary apes making a total of three only two unless you stick me away man man come alive they'll be on the stairs in a spark sage Wessel took a dismantled pike staff from the corner, and raising it to the high ceiling dislodged a rough trap-door opening into a garret above. There's no ladder. He moved a bench under the trap, upon which soft shoes mounted, crouched, hesitated, crouched again, and then leaped amazingly upward. He caught at the edge of the aperture and swung back and forth for a moment, shifting his hole,

finally doubled up and disappeared into the darkness above. There was a scurry, a migration of rats, as the... trap door was replaced silence Wessel returned to his reading table opened to the legend of Britomartis or of chastity and waited almost a minute later there was a scramble on the stairs and an intolerable hammering at the door Wessel sighed in picking up his candle rose who's there open the door who's there an aching blow frightened the frail wood splintered it around the edge Wessel opened it a scarce three inches and held the candle high

his was to play the timorous the super respectable citizen disgracefully disturbed one small hour of the night for rest is that too much to ask from every brawler and quiet gossip have you seen a perspiring fellow the shadows of two gallants fell in immense wavering outlines over the narrow stairs by the light wessel scrutinized them closely gentlemen they were hastily but richly dressed one of them wounded severely in the hand both radiating a sort of furious horror. Waving aside Wessel's ready miscomprehension, they pushed by him into the room and with their swords went through the business of poking carefully into all suspected dark spots in the room, further extending their search to Wessel's bedchamber. "'Is he hid here?' demanded the wounded man fiercely. "'Is who here?' "'Any man but you.'

Only two others that I know of. For a second Wessel feared that he had been too damned funny, where the gallants made as though to prick him through. I heard a man on the stairs, he said hastily. Full five minutes ago it was. He most certainly failed to come up. He went on to explain his absorption in the fairy queen, but for the moment at least his visitors,

like the great saints, were anesthetic to culture. What's been done? inquired Wessel. Violence, said the man with the wounded hand. Wessel noticed that his eyes were quite wild. My own sister! Oh, Christ in heaven! Give us this man! Wessel winced. Who is the woman? man. God's word. We know not even that. What's that trap up there? He added suddenly.

That's nailed down. It's not been used for years. He thought of the pole in the corner and quailed in his belly, but the utter despair of the two men doled their astuteness. It would take a ladder for anyone not a tumbler, said the wounded man listlessly. His companion broke into hysterical laughter. A tumbler! Oh, a tumbler! Oh! Wessel stared at them in wonder. That appeals to my most tragic humor, cried the man, that no one, oh, no one could get up there but a tumbler. The gallant with the wounded hand snapped his good fingers impatiently. We must go next door, and then on. Helplessly they went as two walking under a dark and storm-swept sky. Wessel closed and bolted the door and stood a moment by it, frowning in pity.

A low-breathed haw made him look up. Soft shoes had already raised the trap and was looking down into the room, his rather elfish face squeezed into a grimace, half of distaste, half of sardonic amusement. They take off their heads with their helmets, he remarked in a whisper. But as for you and me, Wessel, we are two cunning men. Now you be cursed, cried Wessel vehemently. I know you for a dog, but when I hear even the half of a tail like this, I know you for such a dirty cur that I am minded to club your skull.

Soft shoes stared at him blinking. At all events, he replied finally, I find dignity impossible in this position. With this he let his body through the trap, hung for an instant and dropped the seven feet to the floor. There was a rat considering my ear with the air of a gourmet, he continued, dusting his hands on his breeches. I told him in the rat's peculiar idiom that I was deadly poison,

so he took himself off. Let's hear of this night's lechery, insisted Wessel angrily. Soft shoes touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled the fingers derisively at Wessel. "'Street gammon,' muttered Wessel. "'Have you any paper?' demanded soft shoes irrelevantly, and then rudely added, "'Or can you write?'

"'Why should I give you paper?' "'You wanted to hear of the night's entertainment. "'So you shall, and you give me pen, ink, "'a sheaf of paper, and a room to myself.' "'Wessel hesitated. "'Get out,' he said finally. "'As you will, yet you have missed the most intriguing story.' "'Wessel wavered.

"'He was soft as taffy that man.' gave in soft shoes went into the adjoining room with the begrudged writing materials and precisely closed the door Wessel grunted and returned to the fairy queen so silence came once more upon the house three o'clock went into four the room paled the dark outside was shot through with damp and chill and Wessel cupping his brain in his hands bent low over his table tracing through the pattern of knights and fairies and the harrowing distresses of men girls there were dragons chortling along the narrow street outside when the sleepy armorer's boy began his work at half-past five the heavy clinking clank of plate and linked mail swelled to the echo of a marching cavalcade a fog shut down at the first flare of dawn and the room was grayish yellow at six when Wessel tiptoed to his cupboard bedchamber and pulled open the door his guest turned on him a face

pale as parchment in which two distraught eyes burned like great red letters. He had drawn a chair close to Wessel's Pridieu, which he was using as a desk, and on it was an amazing stack of closely written pages. With a long sigh, Wessel withdrew and returned to his siren, calling himself fool for not claiming his bed here at dawn. The dump of boots outside, the croaking of old bell-dams from attic to attic, the dull murmur of morning, unnerved him, and, dozing, he slumped in his chair, his brain overladen with sound and color, working intolerably,

over the imagery that stacked it. In this restless dream of his, he was one of a thousand groaning bodies crushed near the sun, a helpless bridge for the strong-eyed Apollo. The dream tore at him, scraped along his mind like a ragged knife. When a hot hand touched his shoulder, he awoke with what was nearly a scream to find the fog thick in the room and his guest,

a gray ghost of misty stuff beside him with a pile of paper in his hand. It should be a most intriguing tale, I believe, though it requires some going over. May I ask you to lock it away and in God's name let me sleep?' He waited for no answer but thrust the pile at Wessel and literally poured himself like stuff from a suddenly inverted bottle upon a couch in the corner, slept with his breathing regular, but his brow wrinkled in a curious and somewhat uncanny manner. Wessel yawned sleepily and glancing at the scrawled uncertain first page he began reading aloud very softly. The rape of Lucrease From the besieged Ardea all in post, born by the trustless wings of false desire,

lust-breathing Tarkwin leaves the Roman host. End of Section 9. Read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, shaggybark.blogspot.com Section 10 of Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. W. Jenkins. O. Russet Witch. Merlin Granger was employed by the Moonlight Quill Bookshop, which you may have visited just around the corner from the Ritz-Carlton on 47th Street. The Moonlight Quill is, or rather was, a very romantic little store, considered radical

and admitted dark. It was spotted interiorly with red and orange posters of breathless exotic intent, and lit no less by the shiny reflecting bindings of special editions, and by the great squat lamp of crimson satin that lighted through all the day swung overhead. It was truly a mellow bookshop. The words, Moonlight Quill, were worked over the door in a sort of serpentine embroidery. The windows seemed always full of something that had passed the literary sensors with little to spare, volumes with covers of deep orange which offer their titles on little white paper squares, and overall there was the smell of the musk which the clever inscrutable mr moonlight quill ordered to be sprinkled about the smell half of a curiosity shop in dickens london and half of a coffee-house on the warm shores of the bosphorus

from nine until five thirty merlin granger asked bored old ladies in black and young men with dark circles under their eyes if they cared for this fellow or were interested in first editions did they buy novels with arabs on the cover or books which gave shakespeare's newest sonnets as dictated psychically to miss sutton of south dakota he sniffed as a matter of fact his own taste ran to these latter but as an employee of the moonlight quill he assumed for the working day the attitude of a disillusioned connoisseur after he had crawled over the window display to pull down the front shade at five-thirty every afternoon and said goodbye to the mysterious mr moonlight quill and the lady clerk miss mccracken and the lady stenographer miss masters he went home to the girl caroline he did not eat supper with caroline it is unbelievable that caroline would have considered eating off his bureau with the collar-buttons dangerously near the cottage cheese and the ends of Merlin's necktie just missing his glass of milk. He had never asked her to eat with him. He ate alone. He went into Bregdorts, delicatessen on 6th Avenue, and bought a box of crackers, a tube of anchovy paste, and some oranges, or else a little jar of sausages and some potato salad, and a bottled soft drink. And with these in a brown package, he went to his room at 50-something West 58th Street, and ate his supper and saw Carolyn. Carolyn was a very very,

young and gay person who lived with some older lady and was possibly 19. She was like a ghost in that she never existed until evening. She sprang into life when the lights went on in her apartment at about six, and she disappeared at the latest, about midnight. Her apartment was a nice one, in a nice building with a white stone front opposite the south side of Central Park. The back of her apartment faced the single window of the single room occupied by the single Mr. Granger. he called her caroline because there was a picture that looked like her on the jacket of a book of that name down at the moonlight quill now merlin granger was a thin young man of twenty-five with dark hair no moustache or beard or anything like that but caroline was dazzling and light with a shimmering morass of russet waves to take the place of hair and the sort of features that remind you of kisses the sort of features you thought belonged to your first love but no when you come across an old picture didn't she dressed in pink or blue usually but of late she had sometimes put on a slender black gown that was evidently her especial pride for whenever she wore it she would stand regarding a certain place on the wall which merlin thought must

be a mirror. She sat usually in the profile chair near the window, but sometimes honored the chaise lounge by the lamp, and often she leaned way back and smoked a cigarette with posturings of her arms and hands that Merlin considered very graceful. At another time she had come to the window and stood in it magnificently, and looked out because the moon had lost its way and was dripping the strangest and most transforming brilliance into the area way between, turning the motif of ash cans and clothes lines into a vivid impressionism of silver casks and giant gossamer cobwebs. Merlin was sitting in plain sight, eating cottage cheese with sugar and milk on it, and so quickly did he reach out for the window cord that he tipped the cottage cheese into his lap

with his free hand, and the milk was cold and the sugar made spots on his trousers, and he was sure that she had seen him after all. Sometimes there were collars, men in dinner-coats, who stood and bowed, hat in hand and coat on arm as they talked to Carolyn. Then bowed some more and followed her out of the light, obviously bound for a play or for a dance. Other young men came and sat and smoked cigarettes and seemed trying to tell Carolyn something. She's sitting either in the profile chair

and watching them with eager intentness or else in the chaise lounge by the lamp, looking very lovely and youthfully inscrutable indeed. Merlin enjoyed these calls. some of the men he approved others won only his grudging toleration one or two he loathed especially the most frequent caller a man with black hair and a black goatee and a pitch dark soul who seemed to merlin vaguely familiar but whom he was never quite able to recognize now merlin's whole life was not bound up with this romance he had constructed it was not the happiest hour of his day he never arrived in time to rescue caroline from clutches, nor did he even marry her. A much stranger thing happened than any of these, and it is this strange thing that will presently be set down here. It began one October afternoon when she walked briskly into the mellow interior of the moonlight quill. It was

a dark afternoon, threatening rain and the end of the world, and done in that particularly gloomy gray in which only New York afternoons indulge. A breeze was crying down the streets, walking along battered newspapers and pieces of things and little lights were pricking out all the windows it was so desolate that one was sorry for the tops of skyscrapers lost up there in the dark green-grey heaven and felt that now surely the farce was to close and presently all the buildings would collapse like card-houses and pile up in a dusty sardonic heap upon all the millions who presumed to wind in and out of them at least these were the sort of musings that lay heavily upon the soul of merlin granger as he stood by the window putting a dozen books back in a row after a cyclonic visit by a lady with ermine trimmings. He looked out of the window full of the most distressing thoughts of the early novels of H.D. Wells, of the boot genesis, of how Thomas Edison had said that in 30 years there would be no dwelling houses upon the island, but only a vast and turbulent bizarre. And then he set the last book right side up,

turn, and Carolyn walked coolly into the shop. she was dressed in a jaunty but conventional walking costume he remembered this when he thought about it later her skirt was plaid pleaded like a concertina her jacket was soft but brisk tan her shoes and spats were brown and her hat small and trim completed her like the top of a very expensive and beautifully filled candy box merlin breathless and startled advanced nervously toward her good afternoon he said and then stopped why he did not know except that it came to him that something very portentous in his life was about to occur and that it would need no furbishing but silence and the proper amount of expectant attention and in that minute before the thing began to happen he had the sense of a breathless second hanging suspended in time he saw through the glass partition that bounded off the little office the malevolveller conical head of his employer mr moonlight quill bent over his correspondence he saw miss mccracken and miss masters as two patches of hair drooping over piles of paper he saw the crimson lamp overhead and noticed with a touch of pleasure how really pleasant and romantic it made the bookstore seem then the thing happened or rather it began to happen caroline picked up a volume of poems lying loose upon a pile fingered it absently with her slender white hand and suddenly with an easy gesture tossed it upward toward the ceiling where it disappeared in the crimson lamp and lodged there seen through the illuminated silk as a dark bulging rectangle this pleased her she broke into young contagious laughter in which merlin found himself presently joining it stayed up she cried merrily it stayed up didn't it to both of them this seemed the height of brilliant absurdity their laughter mingled filled the book-shop and merlin was glad to find that her voice was rich and full of sorcery

try another he found himself suggesting try a red one at this her laughter increased and she had to rest her hands upon the stack to steady herself try another she managed to articulate between spasins of mirth oh golly try and she had to rest her hands upon the stack to steady herself try another she managed to articulate between spasins of mirth oh golly try another try too yes try too oh i'll choke if i don't stop laughing here it goes suiting her action to the word she picked up a red brook and sent it in a gentle hyperbola toward the ceiling where it sank into the lamp beside the first it was a few minutes before either of them could do more than rock back and forth in helpless glee but then by mutual agreement they took up the sport anew this time in unison merlin sees the large specially bound french class and whirled it upward. Applating his own accuracy, he took a bestseller in one hand and a book on barnacles in the other and waited breathlessly while she made her shot. Then the business waxed fast and furious. Sometimes they alternated, and watching he found how supple she was in every movement. Sometimes one of them made shot after shot, picking up the nearest book, sending it off, merely taking time to follow it with a glance before reaching for another. Within three minutes they had

cleared the little place on the table and the lamp of crimson satin, was so bulging with books that it was near breaking. Silly game, basketball, she cried scornfully as a book left her hand. High school girls play it in hideous bloomers. Idiotic, he agreed. She paused in the act of tossing a book and replaced it suddenly in its position on the table. I think we've got room to sit down now, she said gravely. They had. They had cleared an ample space for two.

With a faint touch of nervousness, Merlin glanced toward Mr. Moonlight Quill's glass partition, but the three heads were still bent earnestly over their work and it was evident that they had not seen what had gone on in the shop so when caroline put her hands on the table and hoisted herself up merlin calmly imitated her and they sat side by side looking very earnestly at each other i had to see you she began with a rather pathetic expression in her brown eyes i know it was that last time she continued her voice trembling a little though she tried to keep it steady i was frightened i don't like you to eat off the dresser so i'm afraid you'll you'll swallow a collar button i did once almost he confessed reluctantly but it's not so easy you know i mean you can swallow the flat part easy enough or else the other part that is separately but for a whole collar button you'd have to have a specially made three but for a whole collar button you'd have a specially made three throat. He was astonishing himself by the debonair appropriateness of his remarks. Words seemed for the first time in his life to run at him, shrieking to be used, gathering themselves into carefully arranged squads and platoons, and being presented to him by punctilious adjutants of paragraphs.

"'That's what scared me,' she said. "'I knew you had to have a specially made throat, and I knew at least I felt sure that you didn't have one,' he nodded frankly. "'I haven't. It costs money to have one. More money. unfortunately than I possess. He felt no shame in saying this, rather a delight in making the admission. He knew that nothing he could say or do would be beyond her comprehension, least of all his poverty and the practical impossibility of ever extricating himself from it. Carolyn looked down at her wristwatch, and with a little cry slid from the table to her feet.

"'It's after five,' she cried. "'I didn't realize. I have to be at the ritz at five-thirty. Let's hurry and get this done. I've got a bet on it.' with one accord they set to work caroline began the matter by seizing a book on insects and sending it whizzing and finally crashing through the glass partition that housed mr moonlight quill the proprietor glanced up with a wild look brushed a few pieces of glass from his desk and went on with his letters miss mccracken gave no sign of having heard only miss masters started and gave a little frightened scream before she bent to her task again but to merlin and caroline it didn't matter in a perfect orgy of energy they were hurling book book after book in all directions, until sometimes three or four were in the air at once, smashing against shelves, tracking the glass of pictures on the walls, falling and bruised and torn heaps upon the floor. It was fortunate that no customers happened to come in, for it is certain they would never have come in again. The noise was too tremendous, a noise of smashing and ripping

and tearing, mixed now and then with the tinkling of glass, the quick breathing of the two-throwers, and the intermittent outbursts of laughter to which both of them periodically so. surrendered. At 5.30, Carolyn tossed the last book at the lamp and gave the final impetus to the load it carried. The weakened silk tore and dropped its cargo in one vast splattering of white in color to the already littered floor. Then with a sigh of relief she turned to Merlin and held out her hand. Goodbye, she said simply. Are you going? He knew she was. His question was simply a lingering while to detain her and extract for another moment that dazzling essence of light he drew from her presence, to continue his enormous satisfaction in her features, which were like kisses,

and, he thought, like the features of a girl he had known back in 1910. For a minute he pressed the softness of her hand, then she smiled and withdrew it, and, before he could spring to open the door, she had done it herself and was gone out into the turbid and ominous twilight that brooded narrowly over 47th Street. I would like to tell you how Merlin, having seen how beauty regards the wisdom of the years, walked into the little partition of Mr. Moonlight Quill and gave up his job then and there, dense issuing out into the street a much finer and nobler and increasingly ironic man. But the truth is much more commonplace. Merlin Granger stood up and surveyed the wreck of the bookshop, the ruined volumes, the torn silk remnants of the once

beautiful crimson lamp, the crystalline sprinkling of broken glass which lay an iridescent dust over the whole interior, and then he went to a corner where the broom was kept, and began cleaning up and rearranging and as far as he was able restoring the shop to its former condition he found that though some few of the books were uninjured most of them had suffered in varying extents the backs were off some the pages were torn from others still others were just slightly cracked in the front which as all careless book returners know makes a book unsaleable and therefore second-hand nevertheless by six o'clock he had done much to repair the damage he had returned the books to their original places which was up the floor and put new lights in the sockets overhead. The red shade itself was ruined beyond redemption, and Merlin thought in some trepidation that the money to replace it might have to come out of his salary. At six, therefore, having done the best he could, he crawled over the front window display to pull down the blind. As he was treading delicately back, he saw

Mr. Moonlight Quill rise from his desk, put on his overcoat and hat, and emerge into the shop. He nodded mysteriously at Merlin and went toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he paused, turned around, and in a voice curiously compounded of ferocity and uncertainty, he said, "'If that girl comes in here again, you tell her to behave.' With that he opened the door, drowning Merlin's meek—' "'Yes, sir.' In its creek, and went out.

Merlin stood there for a moment, deciding wisely not to worry about what was for the present only a possible futurity, and then he went into the back of the shop and invited Miss Masters to have supper with him at Poolpott's French restaurant. where one could still obtain red wine at dinner despite the great federal government miss masters accepted wine makes me feel all thingly she said merlin laughed inwardly as he compared her to caroline or rather as he didn't compare her there was no comparison two mr moonlight quill mysterious exotic and oriental in temperament was nevertheless a man of decision and it was with decision that he approached the problem of his wrecked shop unless he was with decision that he approached the problem of his wrecked shop unless he was a man of his wrecked shop unless he was a man of his own should make an outlay equal to the original cost of his entire stock a step which for certain private reasons he did not wish to take it would be impossible for him to continue in business with the moonlight quill as before there was but one thing to do he promptly turned his establishment

from an up-to-the-minute bookstore into a second-hand bookshop the damaged books were marked down from twenty-five to fifty percent the name over the door whose serpentine embroidery had once shone so insolently bright was allowed to grow dim and take on the indescribably vague color of old paint. And having a strong ponchant for ceremonial, the proprietor went so far as to buy two skull caps of shoddy red felt, one for himself and one for his clerk, Merlin Granger. Moreover, he let his goatee grow until it resembled the tail feathers of an ancient sparrow, and substituted for a once-dapper business suit,

a reverence-inspiring affair of shiny alpaca. in fact within a year after caroline's catastrophic visit to the bookstore the only thing in it that preserved any resemblance of being up to date was miss masters miss mccracken had followed in the footsteps of mr moonlight quill and become an intolerable doubt for merlin too from a feeling compounded of loyalty and listlessness had let his exterior take on the semblance of a deserted garden he accepted the red felt skull cap as a symbol of his decay always a young man known as a pusher he had been since the day of his graduation from the manual training department of a New York high school, an inveterate brusher of clothes, hair, teeth, and even eyebrows, and had learned the value of laying all his clean socks, toe upon toe, and heel upon heel in a certain drawer of his bureau, which would be known as the sock drawer. These things he felt had won him his place in the greatest splendor of the moonlight quill.

It was due to them that he was not still making chests useful for keeping things, as he was taught with breathless practicality in high school, and selling them to whoever had use of such chests, possibly undertakers. Nevertheless, when the progressive moonlight quill became the retrogressive moonlight quill, he preferred to sink with it, and so took to letting his suits gather undisturbed,

the wispy burdens of the air, and to throwing his socks indiscriminately into the shirt drawer, the underwear drawer, and even into no drawer at all. It was not uncommon in his new carelessness to let many of his, his clean clothes go directly back into the laundry without having ever been worn, a common eccentricity of impoverished bachelors. And this in the face of his favorite magazines,

which at that time were fairly staggering with articles by successful authors against the frightful impudence of the condemned poor, such as the buying of wearable shirts and nice cuts of meat, and the fact that they preferred good investments in personal jewelry to respectable ones in four percent savings banks. It was indeed a strange state of affairs and a sorry one for many worthy and god-fearing men. For the first time in the history of the Republic, almost any Negro north of Georgia could change a one-dollar bill, but as at that time the cent was rapidly approaching the purchasing power of the Chinese ubu and was only a thing you got back occasionally after paying for a soft drink and could use merely in getting your

correct weight, this was perhaps not so strange a phenomenon as it at first seems. It was too curious a state of things, however, for Merlin Granger to take the step that he did take, the hazardous, almost involuntary step of proposing to Miss Masters, stranger still that she accepted him. It was at Poo-Pats on Saturday night and over a $1.75 bottle of water diluted with Vien Ordinaire that their proposal occurred. "'Mine makes me feel all tingly, doesn't it you?' "'Chattered Miss Masters gaily.' "'Yes,' answered Merlin absently, and then after a long and pregnant pause,

"'Miss Masters, Olive, I want to say something to you if you'll listen to me.' The tinglingness of Miss Masters, who knew what was coming, increased until it seemed that she would shortly be electrocuted by her own nervous reactions. But her, yes, Merlin, came without a sign or flicker of interior disturbance. merlin swallowed a stray bit of air that he found in his mouth i have no fortune he said with the manner of making an announcement i have no fortune at all their eyes met locked became wistful and dreamy and beautiful olive he told her i love you i love you too merlin she answered simply shall we have another bottle of wine yes he cried his heart beating at a great rate do you mean to drink to our engagement she interrupted bravely maybe it be a short one no he almost shouted bringing his fists fiercely down upon the table may it last forever what i mean oh i see what you mean you're right may it be a short one he laughed and added my error after the wine arrived they discussed the matter thoroughly we'll have to take a small apartment at first he said and i believe yes by golly i know there's a small one in the house where i live a big room and a sort of dressing-room kitchenette and the use of a bath on the same floor she clapped her hands happily and he thought how pretty she was really that is the upper part of her face from the bridge of the nose down she was somewhat out of true she continued enthusiastically

and as soon as we can afford it we'll take a real swell apartment with an elevator and a telephone girl and after that a place in the country in a car i can't imagine nothing more fun can you merlin fell silent a moment he was thinking that he would have to give up his room the fourth floor rear it is a little bit of a little fourth floor rear it is a man It mattered very little now, during the past year and a half, in fact, from the very date of Carolyn's visit to the moonlight quill, he had never seen her. For a week after that visit her lights had failed to go on. Darkness brooded out into the areaway, seemed to grope blindly in at his expectant, uncurtained window. Then the lights had appeared at last, and instead of Carolyn and her collars, they showed a stodgy family. A little man with a bristly mustache and a full-bosomed woman who spent her evenings patting her hips, and rearranging bric-a-brac. After two days of them, Merlin had callously pulled down his shade. No, Merlin could think of nothing more fun than rising in the world with olive. There would be a cottage in the suburb,

a cottage painted blue, just one class below the sort of cottages that are of white stucco with a green roof. In the grass around the cottage would be rusty trowls in a broken green bench in a baby carriage with a wicker body that sagged to the left. And around the grass in the baby-carriage, carriage and the cottage itself around his whole world there would be the arms of olive a little stouter the arms of her neo-olivian period when as she walked her cheeks would tremble up and down ever so slightly from too much face massaging he could hear her voice now two spoons length away

i knew you were going to say this to-night merlin i could see she could see ah suddenly he wondered how much she could see could she see that the girl who had come in with a party of three men and sat down at the next table was caroline ah could she see that could she see that the men brought with them liquor far more potent than pulpit's red ink condensed threefold merlin stared breathlessly half-hearing through an auditory ether olive's low soft monologue as like a persistent honeybee she sucked sweetness from her memorable hour. Merlin was listening to the clinking of ice, and the fine laughter of all four at some pleasantry, and that laughter of Carolins that he knew so well stirred him, lifted him, called his heart imperiously over to her table, whither it obediently went. He could see her quite plainly, and he fancied that in the last year and a half she had changed, if ever so slightly.

Was it delight, or were her cheeks a little thinner, and her eyes? eyes less fresh, if more liquid, than of old. Yet the shadows were still purple in her russet hair, her mouth hinted yet of kisses, as did the profile that came sometimes between his eyes in a row of books, when it was twilight in the bookshop where the crimson lamp presided no more. And she had been drinking. The threefold flush on her cheeks was compounded of youth and wine and fine cosmetic, that he could tell. She was making great amusement for the young man on her left, and the portly person on her right, even for the old fellow opposite her, for the latter from time to time uttered the shocked and mildly reproachful cackles of another generation.

Merlin caught the words of a song she was intermittently singing. Just snap your fingers at care, don't cross the bridge till you're there. The portly person filled her glass with chill amber. A waiter after several trips about the table and many helpless glances at Carolyn, who was maintaining a cheerful, futile questionnaire as to the succulence of this dish or that, managed to obtain the semblance of an order and hurried away. Olive was speaking to Merlin. When then? she asked, her voice faintly shaded with disappointment.

He realized that he had just answered no to some question she had answered him. Oh, sometime. Don't you care? A rather pathetic poignancy in her question brought his eyes back to her. As soon as possible, dear, he replied with surprising tenderness. in two months in june so soon her delightful excitement quite took her breath away oh yes i think we'd better say june no use waiting olive began to pretend that two months was really too short a time for her to make preparations wasn't he a bad boy wasn't he impatient though well she'd show him he mustn't be too quick with her indeed he was so sudden she didn't exactly know whether she ought to marry him at all june he repeated he repeated he was so sudden she didn't exactly know whether she ought to marry him at all june he repeated sternly olive sighed and smiled and drank her coffee her little finger lifted high above the others in true refined fashion a stray thought came to merlin that he would like to buy five rings and throw at it

my gosh he exclaimed aloud soon he would be putting rings on one of her fingers his eyes swung sharply to the right the party of four had become so riotous that the head waiter had approached and spoken to them caroline was arguing with this head waiter in her raised voice, a voice so clear and young that it seemed as though the whole restaurant would listen. The whole restaurant except all of masters, self-absorbed in her new secret. How do you do? Carolyn was saying. Probably the handsomest head-waiter in captivity. Too much noise? Very unfortunate. Something will have to be done about it. Gerald? She addressed the man on her right. The head-waiter says there's too much noise. Appeals to us to have it stopped. What I say shh remonstrated Gerald with laughter and Merlin heard him add in an undertone all the bourgeoisie will be aroused this is where the floor-walkers learn French

Carolyn sat up straight in sudden alertness where's a floor-walker she cried show me a floor-walker this seemed to amuse the party for the all including Carolyn burst into renewed laughter the head waiter after a last conscientious but despairing admonition became gallic with his shoulders and retired into the background. Pulpats, as everyone knows, has the unvarying respectability of the tabladoat. It is not a gay place in the conventional sense. One comes, drinks the red wine, talks perhaps a little more and a little louder than usual under the low, smoky ceilings, and then goes home.

It closes up at 9.30, tight as a drum. The policeman is paid off and given an extra bottle of wine for the missus. The coat-room girl hands her tips. to the collector and then darkness crushes the little round tables out of sight and life but excitement was prepared for pulpit's this evening excitement of no mean variety a girl with russet purple shadowed hair mounted to her tabletop and began to dance thereon sacri nom de do come down off there cried the head waiter stop that music but the musicians were already playing so loud that they could pretend not to hear his order having once been young they played louder and gave than ever, and Carolyn danced with grace and vivacity, her pink, filmy dress swirling about her, her agile arms playing and supple tenuous gestures along the smoky air. A group of Frenchmen at a table nearby broke into cries of applause in which other parties joined. In a moment the

room was full of clapping and shouting. Half the diners were on their feet, crowding up, and on the outskirts the hastily summoned proprietor was giving indistinct vocal evidences of his desire to put an end to this thing as quickly as possible. Merlin! cried Olive, awake and aroused at last. She's such a wicked girl. Let's get out. Now. The fascinated Merlin protested feebly that the check was not paid. It's all right. Lay five dollars on the table. I despise that girl. I can't bear to look at her. She was on her feet now, tugging at Merlin's arm.

Helplessly, listlessly, and then with what amounted to downright unwillingness, Merlin Rose, followed Olive dumbly as she picked her way through the delirious clamor, now approaching its height and threatening to become a wild and memorable riot. Submissively, he took his coat and stumbled up half a dozen steps into the moist April air outside, his ears still ringing with the sound of light feet on the table and of laughter all about and over the little world of the cafe. In silence they walked along toward Fifth Avenue and a bus. It was not until next day that she told him about the way. how she had moved the date forward it was much better that they should be married on the first of May

three and married they were in a somewhat stuffy manner under the chandelier of the flat where olive lived with her mother after marriage came elation and then gradually the growth of weariness responsibility descended upon Merlin the responsibility of making his thirty dollars a week and her twenty suffice to keep them respectably fat, and to hide with decent garments the evidence that they were. It was decided after several weeks of disastrous and well-nigh humiliating experiments with restaurants that they would join the great army of the delicatessen-fed, so he took up his old way of life again, in that he stopped every evening at Bragged Dort's delicatessen and bought potatoes in salad, ham in slices, and sometimes even stuffed tomatoes in bursts of extravagance. then he would trudge homeward, enter the dark hallway, and climb three rickety flights of stairs

covered by an ancient carpet of long obliterated design. The hall had an ancient smell of the vegetables of 1880, of the furniture polish in vogue when Adam and Eve Brian ran against William McKinley, of fortiers an ounce heavier with dust, from worn-out shoes and lint from dresses turned long since into patchwork quilts. This smell would be a little bit of pursue him up the stairs, revivified and made poignant at each landing by the aura of contemporary cooking, then as he began the next flight, diminishing into the odor of the dead routine of dead generations. Eventually would occur the door of his room, which slipped open with indecent willingness and closed with almost a sniff upon his, "'Hello, dear. Got a treat for you tonight.'

Olive, who always rode home on the bus to get a morsel of air, would be making the bed and hanging up things. At his call she would come up to him and give him a quick kiss with wide open eyes while he held her upright like a ladder, his hands on her two arms as though she were a thing without equilibrium, and would once he relinquished hold fall swiftly backward to the floor. This is the kiss that comes in with the second year of marriage, succeeding the brideroom kiss, which is rather stagy at best, say those who know about such things, and apt to be copied from passionate movies. Then came supper, and after that they went out for a walk, up two blocks and through Central Park, or sometimes to a moving picture, which taught them patiently that they were

the sort of people for whom life was ordered, and that something very grand and brave and beautiful would soon happen to them if they were docile and obedient to their rightful superiors and kept away from pleasure. Such was their day for three years. Then change came into their lives. All have had a baby, and as a result Merlin had a new influx of material resources. In the third week of Olive's confinement, after an hour of nervous rehearsing, he went into the office of Mr. Moonlight Quill and demanded an enormous increase in salary. "'I've been here ten years,' he said. "'Since I was nineteen.

I've always tried to do my best in the interests of the business.' Mr. Moonlight Quill said that he would think it over. Next morning he announced, to Merlin's great delight, that he was going to put into effect a project long premeditated. He was going to retire from active work in the bookshop, confining himself to periodic visits and leaving Merlin as manager with a salary of $50 a week and a one-tenth interest in the business. When the old man finished, Merlin's cheeks were glowing and his eyes full of tears.

He seized his employer's hand and shook it violently, saying over and over again, It's very nice of you, sir. It's very white of you. It's very white of you. very nice of you. So after ten years of faithful work in the store he had won out at last. Looking back, he saw his own progress toward this hill of elation, no longer as a sometimes sorted and always gray decade of worry and failing enthusiasm and failing dreams, years when the moonlight had grown duller in the area way, and though youth had faded out of Olive's face, but as a glorious and triumphant climb over obstacles which he had determinedly surmounted by unconquerable willpower. The optimistic self-delusion that had kept him from misery was seen

now in the golden garments of stern resolution. Half a dozen times he had taken steps to leave the moonlight quill and soar upward, but through sheer faint-heartedness he had stayed on. Strangely enough, he now thought that those were times when he had exerted tremendous persistence and had determined to fight it out where he was. At any rate, let us not for the the moment begrudge merlin his new and magnificent view of himself he had arrived he left the shop that evening fairly radiant invested every penny in his pocket in the most tremendous feast that brig dorts delicatessen offered and staggered homeward with the great news and four gigantic paper bags the fact that olive was too sick to eat that he made himself faintly but unmistakably ill by a struggle with four stuffed tomatoes and that most of the food deteriorated rapidly in an ice-stuffed ice-box all next day did not mar the occasion for the first time since the week of his marriage

merlin granger lived under a sky of unclouded tranquility the baby boy was christened arthur and life became dignified significant and at length centered merlin and olive resigned themselves to a somewhat secondary place in their own cosmos but what they lost in personality they regained in a sort of primordial pride the country house did not come but a month in an Ashbury Park boarding house each summer filled the gap. And during Merlin's two weeks holiday, this excursion assumed the air of a really merry jaunt, especially when, with the baby asleep in a wide room opening technically on the sea, Merlin strolled with olive along the thronged boardwalk, puffing at his cigar and trying to look like 20,000 a year. With some alarm at the slowing up of the days and the accelerating of the years, Merlin became 31,

thirty-two, then almost with a rush arrived at that age which, with all its washing and panning, can only muster a bare handful of the precious stuff of youth. He became 35. And one day, on Fifth Avenue, he saw Caroline. It was Sunday, a radiant, flowerful Easter morning, and the avenue was a pageant of lilies and cutaways and happy April-colored bonnets. Twelve o'clock, the great churches were letting out their people. St. Simon's. St. Hilda's, the Church of the Epistles, opened their doors like wide mouths until the people pouring forth surely resembled happy laughter as they met and strolled and chattered, or else waved white bouquets at the waiting chauffeurs. In front of the Church of the Epistles

stood its twelve vestrymen carrying out the time-honored custom of giving away Easter eggs full of face powder to the church-going debutantes of the year. Around them delightedly danced the two thousand miraculously groomed children of the very rich, correctly cute and curled, shining like sparkling little jewels upon their mother's fingers. Speaks the sentimentalist for the children of the poor? Ah, but the children of the rich wandered sweet-smelling, complexioned of the country, and, above all, with soft indoor voices. Little Arthur was five, child of the middle class, undistinguished, unnoticed, with a nose that forever marred what Grecian yearnings his features might have had. He held tightly to his mother's warm,

sticky hand, and with Merlin on his other side moved upon the home-coming throng. At 53rd Street, where there were two churches, the congestion was at its thickest, its richest. Their progress was of necessity retarded to such an extent that even Little Arthur had not the slightest difficulty in keeping up. Then it was that Merlin perceived an open landa lay of deepest crimson, with handsome nickel trimmings glide slowly up to the curb and come to a stop. In it sat Caroline. She was dressed in black, a tight-fitting gown trimmed with lavender, flowered at the waist with a corsage of orchids.

Merlin started and then gazed at her fearfully. For the first time in the eight years since his marriage, he was encountering the girl again. But a girl no longer. Her figure was slim as ever, or perhaps not quite, for a certain boyish swagger, a sort of insolent adolescence, had gone the way of the first blooming of her cheeks but she was beautiful dignity was there now and the charming lines of a fortuitous nine-and-twenty and she sat in the car with such perfect appropriateness and self-possession that it made him breathless to watch her suddenly she smiled the smile of old bright as that very easter and its flowers mellower than ever yet somehow with not quite the radiance and infinite promise of that first smile back there in the book-shop nine years before

it was a steeler smile disillusioned and sad but it was soft enough and smile enough to make a pair of young men in cutaway coats hurry over to pull their high hats off their wetted iridescent hair to bring them flustered and bowing to the edge of her landelais where her lavender gloves gently touched their grey ones and these two were presently joined by another and then two more until there was a rapidly swelling crowd around the landaile merlin would hear a young man beside him say to his perhaps well-favoured companion if you'll just pardon me a moment there's some one i have to speak to walk right ahead i'll catch up within three minutes every inch of the landaille front and back and side was occupied by a man a man trying to construct a sentence clever enough to find its way to caroline through the stream of conversation luckily for merlin a portion of little arthur's clothing had chosen the opportunity to threaten a collapse and olive had hurriedly rushed him over against a building for some extemporaneous repair work so merlin was able to watch unhindered the salon in the street the crowd swelled a row formed in back of the first two more behind that in the midst an orchid rising from a black bouquet sat caroline enthroned in her obliterated car nodding and crying salutations and smiling with such true happiness that of a sudden a new relay of gentlemen had left their wives and consorts and were striding toward her the crowd now phalanx deep began to be augmented by the merely curious men of all ages who could not find possibly have known Caroline jostled over and melted into the circle of ever-increasing

diameter until the lady in lavender was the center of a vast impromptu auditorium. All about her were faces, clean-shaven, bewiskered, old, young, ageless, and now here and there a woman. The mass was rapidly spreading to the opposite curb, and as St. Anthony's around the corner let out its boxholders, it overflowed to the sidewalk and crushed up to the sidewalk and crushed up against the iron picket fence of a millionaire across the street. The motors speeding along the avenue were compelled to stop, and in a jiffy were piled three, five, and six deep at the edge of the crowd. Autobuses, top heavy turtles of traffic, plunged into the jam,

their passengers crowding to the edges of the roofs in wild excitement and peering down into the center of the mass, which presently could hardly be seen from the mass's edge. The crush had become terrific. no fashionable audience at a yale princeton football game no damp mob at a world series could be compared with the panoply that talked stared laughed and honked about the lady in black and lavender it was stupendous it was terrible a quarter mile down the block a half frantic policeman called his precinct on the same corner a frightened civilian crashed in the glass of a fire alarm and sent in a wild peon for all the fire engines of the city up the same corner a frightened civilian crashed in the glass of a fire alarm and sent in a wild peon for all the fire engines of the city up in an apartment high in one of the tall buildings a hysterical old maid telephoned in turn for the prohibition enforcement agent the special deputies on bolshevism and the maternity ward of bellevue hospital the noise increased the first fire-engine arrived filling the sunday air with smoke clanging and crying a brazen metallic message down the high resounding walls in the notion that some terrible calamity had overtaken the city two excited deacons ordered special services immediately and set tolling the great bells of St. Hilda's and St. Anthony's,

presently joined by the jealous gongs of St. Simons and the Church of the Epistles. Even far off in the Hudson and the East River the sounds of the commotion were heard, and the ferry boats and tugs and ocean liners set up sirens and whistles that sailed in melancholy cadence, now varied, now reiterated across the whole diagonal width of the city, from Riverside Drive to the grey waterfronts of the Lower East Side. In the centre of her landelais sat the lady in black and lavender, chatting pleasantly first with one, then another of that fortunate few in cutaways

who had found their way to speaking distance in the first rush. After a while she glanced around her and beside her with a look of growing annoyance. She yawned and asked the man nearest her if he couldn't run in somewhere and get her a glass of water. The man apologized in some embarrassment. He could not have moved hand or foot. He could not have scratched his own ear. As the first blast of the river sirens keened along the air,

Olive fastened the last safety pin in Little Arthur's rompers, and looked up. Merlin saw her start, stiffened slowly like hardening stucco, and then give a little gasp of surprise and disapproval. "'That woman!' she cried suddenly. "'Oh!' she flashed a glance. at Merlin that mingled reproach and pain, and without another word gathered up little Arthur with one hand, grasped her husband by the other, and darted amazingly in a winding, bumping canter

through the crowd. Somehow people gave way before her. Somehow she managed to retain her grasp on her son and husband. Somehow she managed to emerge two blocks up, battered and disheveled into an open space, and without slowing up her pace, darted down a side street. Then at last, when uproar had died away into a dim and distant clamor did she come to a walk and set little arthur upon his feet and on sunday too hasn't she disgraced herself enough this was her only comment she said it to arthur as she seemed to address her remarks to arthur throughout the remainder of the day for some curious and esoteric reason she had never once looked at her husband during the entire retreat four the years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolved before the passive mind as one unexplained confusing merry-go-round true they are a merry-go-round of ill-gated and wind-broken horses painted first in pastel colors then in dull grays and browns but perplexing and intolerably dizzy the thing is as never were the merry-go-rounds of childhood or adolescence as never surely were the certain coarse dynamic roller-coaster

of youth. For most men and women these thirty years are taken up with a gradual withdrawal from life, a retreat first from a front with many shelters, those myriad amusements and curiosities of youth, to align with less, when we peel down our ambitions to one ambition, our recreations to one recreation, our friends to a few to whom we are anesthetic, ending up at last in a solitary, desolate strong point that is not strong, or the shells now whistle abominably now are but half heard as by turns frightened and tired we sit waiting for death at forty then merlin was no different from himself at thirty-five a larger paunch a grey twinkling near his ears a more certain lack of vivacity in his walk his forty-five differed from his forty by a like margin unless one mention of a slight deafness in his left ear but at fifty-five the process had become a chemical change of immense rapidity. Yearly he was more and more an old man to his family, senile almost,

so far as his wife was concerned. He was by this time complete owner of the bookshop. The mysterious Mr. Moonlight Quill, dead some five years and not survived by his wife, had deeded the whole stock and store to him, and there he still spent his days, conversant now by name with almost all that man has recorded for three thousand years, a human catalog, an authority upon tooling and binding, upon folios and first editions, an accurate inventory of a thousand authors whom he could never have understood, and had certainly never read. At 65 he distinctly daughtered. He had assumed the melancholy habits of the age so often portrayed by the second old man in standard Victorian comedies. He consumed vast

warehouses of time searching for mislaid spectacles. He nagged his wife, wife and was nagged in turn he told the same jokes three or four times a year at the family table and gave his son weird impossible directions as to his conduct in life mentally and materially he was so entirely different from the merlin granger of twenty-five that it seemed in congress that he should bear the same name he worked still in the bookshop with the assistance of a youth whom of course he considered very idle indeed and a new young woman miss gaffney miss mccracken ancient and unvenerable as himself still kept the accounts. Young Arthur was gone into Wall Street to sell bonds, as all the young men seemed to be doing in that day. This, of course, was as it should be. Let old Merlin get what magic he could from his books.

The place of young King Arthur was in the counting-house. One afternoon at four, when he had slipped noiselessly up to the front of the store on his soft-sold slippers, led by a newly formed habit of which, to be fair, rather ashamed of spying upon the young man-clerc he looked casually out of the front window straining his faded eyesight to reach the street a limousine large portentous impressive had drawn to the curb and the chauffeur after dismounting and holding some sort of conversation with persons in the interior of the car turned about and advanced in a bewildered fashion toward the entrance of the moonlight quill he opened the door shuffled in and glancing uncertainly at the old man in the skull cap addressed him in a thick murky voice as though his words came through a fog do you do you sell additions merlin nodded the arithmetic books are in the back of the store the chauffeur took off his cap and scratched a close-cropped fuzzy head oh nah diso wants a detecative story he jerked a thumb back toward the limousine she's seen it in the paper first edition

merlin's interest quickened here was possibly a big sale oh additions yes we've advertised some firsts but detective stories i don't believe what was the title i forgot about a crime i have well i have the crimes of the borgias full morocco london seventeen sixty nine beautifully ah interrupted the chauffeur this was one fellow did this crime she's seen you had it for sale and the paper he rejected several possible titles with the air of connoisseur silver bones he announced suddenly out of a slight pause what demanded merlin suspecting that the stiffness of his sinews were being commented upon silver bones that was the guy that done the crime silver bones silver bones silver bones indian maybe merlin stroked his grisly cheeks geez mister went on the prospective purchaser if you want to save me man awful bawling out just try and think the old lady goes wild if everything don't run smooth but merlin's musings on the subject of silver bones were as futile as his obliging search through the shelves and five minutes later a very dejective charioteer wound his way back to his mistress through the glass merlin could see the visible symbols of a tremendous uproar going on in the interior of the limousine a chauffeur made wild appealing gestures of his innocence evident to no avail for when he turned around and climbed back into the driver's seat his expression was not a little dejected then the door of the limousine opened and gave forth a pale and slender young man of about twenty dressed in the attenuation of fashion and carrying a wisp of a cane he entered the shop walked past merlin and proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it merlin approached him anything i can do for you sir old boy said the youth coolly there are severe old things you can first let me smoke my siggy here out of sight of that old lady in the limousine who happens to be my grandmother

her knowledge as to whether i smoke it or not before my majority happens to be a matter of five thousand dollars to me the second thing is that you should look up your first edition of the crime of sylvester bonnard that you advertised in last sunday's times my grandmother there happens to want to take it off your hands detecative story crime of somebody silver bones all was explained with a faint deprecatory chuckle as if to say that he would have enjoyed this had life put him in the habit of enjoying anything merlin dotted away to the back of his shop where his treasures were kept to get his latest investment which he had picked up rather cheaply at the sale of a big collection when he returned with it the young man was drawing on his cigarette and blowing out quantities of smoke with immense satisfaction my god he said she keeps me so close to her the entire day running idiotic errands but this happens to be my first puff in six hours what's the world coming to i ask you and a feeble old lake in the milk toast era can dictate to a man as to his personal vices i happen to be unwilling to be so dictated to let's see the book merlin passed it to him tenderly and the young man after opening it with a carelessness that gave a momentary jump to the book dealer's heart ran through the pages with his thumb no illustrations eh he commented well old boy what's it worth speak up we're willing to give you a fair price though why i don't know one hundred dollars said merlin with a frown the young man gave a startled whistle come on you're not dealing with somebody from the corn-built i happen to be a city-bred man and my grandmother happens to be a city-bred woman though i'd admit it'd take a special tax appropriation to keep her in repair we'll give you twenty-five dollars and let me tell you that's liberal we've got books in our attic up in our attic with my old playthings that were written before the old boy that wrote this was bowing

"'Murland stiffened, expressing a rigid and meticulous horror. "'Did your grandmother give you twenty-five dollars to buy this with?' "'She did not. She gave me fifty, but she expects change. I know that old lady.' "'You tell her,' said Merlin with dignity, "'that she has missed a very great bargain. "'Give you forty,' urged the young man. "'Come on now, be reasonable, and don't try to hold this up.' Merlin had wheeled around with the precious volume under his arm and was about to return it

which special drawer in his office when there was a sudden interruption. With unheard-of-magnificence, the front door burst rather than swung open and embedded in the dark interior a regal apparition in black silk and fur which bore rapidly down upon him. The cigarette leaped from the fingers of the urban young man, and he gave breath to an inadvertent, but it was upon Merlin that the entrance seemed to have the most remarkable and incongruous effect, so strong an effect that the greatest treasure of his shop slipped from his hand and joined the cigarette on the floor. Before him stood Caroline. She was an old woman, an old woman remarkably preserved, unusually handsome, unusually erect, but still an old woman. Her hair was a soft, beautiful white, elaborately dressed

and jewelled. Her face, faintly rouge d'all a grand dame, showed webs of wrinkles at the edges of her eyes, and two deeper lines in the form of stanchions connected her nose in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were dim, ill-natured, and querulous. But it was Caroline, without a doubt. Caroline's features, though in decay, Caroline's figure, brittle and stiff in movement. Caroline's manner, unmistakably compounded of a delightful insolence and an enviable self-assurance. And most of all, Caroline's voice, broken and shaky, yet with a ring in it that still could and did make chauffeurs want to drive laundry wagons and cause cigarettes to fall in. from the fingers of urban grandsons.

She stood and sniffed. Her eyes found the cigarette upon the floor. What's that? She cried. The words were not a question. They were an entire litany of suspicion, accusation, confirmation, and decision. She tarried over them scarcely an instant.

Stand up, she said to her grandson. Stand up and blow that nicotine out of your lungs. The young man looked at her in trepidation. Blow! she commanded. He pursed his. his lips feebly and blew into the air blow she repeated more peremptorily than before he blew again helplessly ridiculously do you realize she went on that you forfeited five thousand dollars in five minutes merlin momentarily expected the young man to fall pleading upon his knees but such is the nobility of human nature that he remained standing even blew again into the air partly from nervousness partly no doubt with some vague hope of re-gratiation himself young ass cried caroline once more just once more and you leave college and go to work this threat had such an overwhelming effect upon the young man that he took an even paler pallor than was natural to him but caroline was not through

do you think i don't know what you and your brothers yes and your assonine father too think of me well i do you think i'm senile you think i'm soft i'm not she struck herself with her fist as though to prove that she was a mass of muscle and sinew you and i'll have more brains left when you've got me laid out in the drawing-room some sunny day than you and the rest of them were born with but grandfather be quiet you a thin little stick of a boy who if it weren't for my money might have risen to be a journeyman barber in the bronx let me see your hands ugh the hands of a barber you presume to be smart with me who once had three counts and a bona fide duke not to mention half a dozen papal titles pursue me from the city of rome to the city of new york she paused took breath stand up blow the young man obediently blew simultaneously the door opened and an excited gentleman of middle age who wore a coat and hat trimmed with fur and seemed moreover to be trimmed with the same sort of fur himself on upper lip and chin rushed into the store and up to caroline found you at last he cried been looking for you all over town tried your house on the phone and your secretary told me he thought you'd gone to a bookshop called the moonlight caroline turned to him irritably do i employ you for your reminiscences she snapped are you my tutor or my broker. Your broker, confessed the fur-trimmed man,

taken somewhat aback. I beg your pardon, I came about that phonograph stock. I can sell for a hundred and five. And do it. Very well, I thought ain't better. Go sell it.

I'm talking to my grandson. Very well, I. Goodbye. Goodbye, madam. The fur-trimmed man made a slight bow and turned in some confusion from the shop. As for you,

said Caroline, turning to her grandson, "'You stay just where you are and be quiet.' She turned to Merlin and included his entire length in a not-unfriendly survey. Then she smiled, and he found himself smiling too. In an instant they both had broken into a cracked but nonetheless spontaneous chuckle. She seized his arm and hurried him to the other side of the store. There they stopped, face each other, and gave vent to another long fit of senile glee.

"'It's the only way,' she gasped in a sort of triumphant malignity. the only thing that keeps old folks like me happy is the sense that they can make other people step around to be old and rich and have poor descendants is almost as much fun as to be young and beautiful and have ugly sisters oh yes chuckled merlin i know i envy you she nodded blinking the last time i was in here forty years ago she said you were a young man very anxious to kick up your heels i was he confessed my visit must have meant a good deal to you you have all along he exclaimed. I thought, I used to think at first that you were a real person, human, I mean. She laughed. Many men have thought me inhuman. But now, continued Merlin excitedly, I understand.

Understanding is allowed to us old people, after nothing much matters. I see now that on a certain night, when you danced upon a tabletop, you were nothing but my romantic yearning for a beautiful and perverse woman. Her old eyes were far away, her voice no more than an echo of a forgotten dream. "'How I danced that night! I remember!' "'You are making an attempt at me. "'Olive's arms were closing about me, "'and you warned me to be free

"'and keep my measure of youth and irresponsibility, "'but it seemed like an effect gotten up at the last moment. "'It came too late.' "'You are very old,' she said inscrutably. "'I did not realize. "'Also I have not forgotten what you did to me "'when I was thirty-five. "'You shook me with that traffic tie-up.

"'It was a magnificent effort, the beauty and power you radiated. You became personified even to my wife, and she feared you. For weeks I wanted to slip out of the house at dark and forget the stuffiness of life, with music and cocktails and a girl to make me young, but then I no longer knew how. And now you are so very old. With a sort of awe she moved back and away from him. Yes, leave me, he cried.

You are old also, the spirit withers with the skin. Have you come here only to tell me something I had best for that to be old and poor is sometimes more wretched than to be old and rich to remind me that my son hurls my gray failure in my face give me my book she commended harshly be quick old man merlin looked at her once more and then patiently obeyed he picked up the book and handed it to her shaking his head when she offered him a bill why go through the farce of paying me once you made me wreck these very premises i did she said in anger and i'm glad perhaps there had been enough done to ruin me. She gave him a glance, half disdain, half-ill-conceived uneasiness, and with a brisk word to her urban grandson moved toward the door. Then she was gone, out of his shop, out of his life. The door clicked. With a sigh he turned and walked brokenly back toward the glass partition that enclosed the yellow accounts of many years, as well as

the mellowed, wrinkled Miss McCracken. Merlin regarded her parched cobwebbed face with an odd sort of pity. She at any rate had had less from life than he. No rebellious romantic spirit popping out unbidden had in its memorable moments given her life a zest and a glory. Then Miss McCracken looked up and spoke to him. "'Dill a spunky old piece, isn't she?' Merlin started. "'Who?' "'Old Alicia Dare. Mrs. Thomas Allardyce she is now, of course, has been these thirty years.' "'What? I don't understand you.'

Merlin sat down suddenly in his swivel chair. His eyes were wide. Why, surely, Mr. Granger, you can't tell me that you've forgotten her, when for ten years she was the most notorious character in New York. Why, one time when she was the correspondent in the Throckmorton divorce case, she attracted so much attention on Fifth Avenue that there was a traffic tie-up. Didn't you read about it in the papers? I never used to read the papers, his ancient brain was whirring. Well, you can't have forgotten the time she came in here in ruins. the business. Let me tell you I came near asking Mr. Moonlight Quill for my salary and clearing

out. Do you mean that you saw her? Saw her? How could I help it with the racket that went on? Heaven knows Mr. Moonlight Quill didn't like it either, but of course he didn't say anything. He was daffy about her and she could twist him around her little finger. The second he opposed one of her whims, she'd threatened to tell his wife on him. Served him right. The idea of that man falling for a pretty adventurous. Of course, course he was never rich enough for her even though the shop paid well in those days but when i saw her stammered merlin that is when i thought saw her she lived with her mother mother trash said miss mccracken indignantly she had a woman there she called auntie who was no more related to her than i am

oh she was a bad one but clever right after the thracomorton divorce case she married thomas salad ice and made herself secure for life who was she cried merlin for god's sake what was she a witch why she was alicia dare the dancer of course in those days you couldn't pick up a paper without finding her picture merlin sat very quiet his brain suddenly fatigued and stilled he was an old man now indeed so old that it was impossible for him to dream of ever having been young so old that the glamour was gone out of the world passing not into the faces of children and into the persistent comforts of warmth and life but passing out of the range of sight and feeling he was never to smile again or to sit a long reverie when spring evenings wafted the cries of children in at his window until gradually they became the friends of his boyhood out there urging him to come and play before the last dark came down he was too old now even for memories that night he sat at supper with his wife and son who had used him for their blind purposes olive said don't sit there like a death's head say something let him sit quiet growled arthur if you encourage him he'll tell us a story we've heard a hundred times before merlin went upstairs very quietly at nine o'clock when he was in his room and had closed the door tight he stood by it for a moment his thin limbs

trembling. He knew now that he had always been a fool. Oh, Russet Witch! But it was too late. He had angered Providence by resisting too many temptations. There was nothing left but heaven where he would meet only those who, like him, had wasted earth. End of Section 10, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, Shaggybark.org.com. section eleven of tales of the jazz age by f scott fitzgerald this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins the lees of happiness if you should look through the files of old magazines for the first years of the present century you would find sandwiched in between the stories of richard harding davis and frank norris and others long since dead, the work of one Jeffrey Curtin, a novel or two, and perhaps three or four dozen short stories. You could, if you were interested, follow them along until, say, 1908, when they

suddenly disappeared. When you had read them all, you would have been quite sure that there were no masterpieces. Here were passably amusing stories, a bit out of date now, but doubtless the sort that would then have whiled away a dreary hour in a dental office. the man who did them was of good intelligence talented glib probably young in the samples of his work you found there would have been nothing to stir you to more than a faint interest in the whims of life no deep interior laughs no sense of futility or hint of tragedy after reading them you would yawn and put the number back in the files and perhaps if you were in some library reading-room you would decide that by way of variety you would make of variety you would make look at a newspaper of the period and see whether the Japs had taken Port Arthur. But if by any chance the newspaper you had chosen was the right one and had crackled open at the theatrical page, your eyes would have been arrested and held, and for at least a minute you would have

forgotten Port Arthur as quickly as you forgot Chateau Thierry, for you would, by this fortunate chance, be looking at the portrait of an exquisite woman. Those were the days of floridora and of sextets of pinched-in wastes and blown-out sleeves of almost bustles and absolute ballet skirts but here without doubt disguised as she might be by the inaccustomed stiffness and old fashion of her costume was a butterfly of butterflies here was the gaiety of the period the soft wine of eyes the songs that flurried hearts the toasts and the bouquets the dances and the dinners here was a Venus of the handsome cab, the Gibson girl in her glorious prime. Here was, here was you, find by looking at the name beneath one Roxanne Milbank, who had been chorus-girl and understudy in the daisy chain, but who by reason of an excellent performance when the star was indisposed had gained a leading part. You would look again and wonder, why you had never heard of her?

Why did her name not linger in popular songs in vaudeville jokes and cigar bands? And and in the memory of that gay old uncle of yours along with Lillian Russell and Stella Mayhew and Anna held. Roxanne Milbank. Whither had she gone? What dark-trap door had opened suddenly and swallowed her up? Her name was certainly not in last Sunday's supplement on the list of actresses married to English nobleman. No doubt she was dead, poor beautiful young lady and quite forgotten. I am hoping too much.

I am having you stumble on Geoffrey Curtain's, stories in Roxanne Milbank's picture. It would be incredible that she should find a newspaper item six months later, a single item two inches by four which informed the public of the marriage, very quietly, of Miss Roxanne Milbank, who had been on tour with the Daisy Chain, to Mr. Geoffrey Curtin, the popular author, Mrs. Curtin, it added dispassionately, will retire from the stage. It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming. She was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs they met in a head-on rush,

caught and sped along together. Yet had Geoffrey Curtin kept at Scrivening for two score years, he could not have put a quirk into one of his stories, weirder than the quirk that came into his own life. Had Roxanne Millbank played three dozen parts and filled five thousand houses, she could never have had a role

with more happiness and more despair, then were in the fate prepared for Roxanne Curtin. For a year they lived in hotels, traveled to California, to Alaska, to Florida, to Mexico, loved and quarreled gently, and gloried in the golden triflings of his wit with her beauty. They were young and gravely dispassionate. They demanded everything,

and then yielded everything again in ecstasies of unselfishness and pride. She loved the swift tones of his voice and his frantic if unfounded jealousy. he loved her dark radiance the white irises of her eyes the warm lustrous enthusiasm of her smile don't you like her he would demand rather excitedly and shyly isn't she wonderful did you ever see yes they would answer grinning she's a wonder you're lucky the year passed they tired of hotels they bought an old house and twenty acres near the town of marlowe half an hour from chicago bought a little car and moved out rye at his house and moved out rye to with a pioneering hallucination that would have confounded Balboa. Your room will be here, they cried in turn, and then, and my room here, and the nursery here when we have children,

and we'll build a sleeping porch, oh, next year. They moved out in April. In July, Jeffrey's closest friend, Harry Cromwell, came to spend a week. They met him at the end of the long lawn and hurried him proudly to the house. Harry was married also. His wife had had a baby some six months before and was still recuperating at her mother's in New York. Roxanne had gathered from Geoffrey that Harry's wife was not as attractive as Harry. Jeffrey had met her once and considered her shallow. But Harry had been married nearly two years and was apparently happy, so Jeffrey guessed that

she was probably all right. I'm making biscuits, chattered Roxanne gravely. Can your wife make biscuits? The cook is showing me how. I think every woman should know how to make biscuits. It sounds so utterly disarming. A woman who can make biscuits can surely do know, "'You'll have to come out here and live,' said Geoffrey. "'Get a place out in the country like us, for you and Kitty.' "'You don't know, Kitty. She hates the country. She's got to have her theatres and vaudeville's.' "'Bring her out,' repeated Geoffrey. "'We'll have a colony. There's an awfully nice crowd here already. Bring her out.'

They were at the port steps now, and Roxanne made a brisk gesture toward a dilaping, structure on the right the garage she announced it will also be geoffrey's writing-room within the month meanwhile dinner is at seven meanwhile to that i will mix a cocktail the two men ascended to the second floor that is they ascended halfway for at the first landing geoffrey dropped his guest's suitcase and then a cross between a quarry and cry exclaimed for god's sake harry how do you like her we will go upstairs answered the guest and we will shut the door. Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library, Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry arose.

"'They're beautiful, dear,' said the husband intensely. "'Axquisite,' murmured Harry. Roxanne beamed. "'Taste one! I couldn't bear to touch them before you'd seen them all, and I can't bear to take them back until I find out what they taste like.' "'Like manna, darling.' Simultaneously, the two men raised the biscuits to their lips, nibbled tentatively.

Simultaneously, they tried to change the subject. But Roxanne, undeceived, set down the pan and seized a biscuit. After a second, her comment rang out with lugubrious finality. Absolutely bum! Really? Why, I didn't notice. Roxanne roared. Oh, I'm useless, she cried, laughing.

Turn me out, Jeffrey. I'm a parasite. I'm no goal. Jeffrey put his arm around her. Darling, I'll eat your biscuits. They're beautiful anyway, insisted Roxanne. They're, they're decorative, suggested Harry. Jeffrey took him up wildly.

That's the word, they're decorative, they're masterpieces. We'll use them. He rushed to the kitchen and returned with a hammer and a handful of nails. We'll use them, by golly, Roxanne. We'll make a freeze out of them. Don't, wailed Roxanne. Our beautiful house. Never mind. We're going to have the library repapered in October, don't you remember?

Well? Bang! The first biscuit was impaled to the wall, where it quivered for a moment, like a live thing. Bang! When Roxanne returned with a second round of cocktails, the biscuits were in a perpendicular row, twelve of them like a collection of primitive spearheads. Roxanne! exclaimed Jeffrey. You're an artist. Cook? Nonsense. You shall. illustrate my books during the dinner the twilight faltered into dusk and later it was a starry dark outside filled and permeated with the frail gorgeousness of roxanne's white dress and her tremulous low laugh such a little girl she is thought harry not as old as kitty

he compared the two kitty nervous without being sensitive temperamental without temperament a woman who seemed to flit and never light and roxan who was as young as so spring night and summed up in her own adolescent laughter. A good match for Jeffrey, he thought again. Two very young people, the sort he'll stay very young until they suddenly find themselves old. Harry thought these things between his constant thoughts about Kitty. He was depressed about Kitty. It seemed to him that she was well enough to come back to Chicago

and bring his little son. He was thinking vaguely of Kitty when he said good-night to his friend's wife and his friend at the foot of the stairs. "'You're our first real house-guest,' called Roxanne after him. "'Aren't you thrilled and proud?' When he was out of sight around the stair corner, she turned to Geoffrey, who was standing beside her resting his hand on the end of the vanister. "'Are you tired, my dearest?'

Geoffrey rubbed the centre of his forehead with his fingers. "'A little. How did you know?' "'Oh, how could I help knowing about you?' "'It's a headache,' he said moodily, splitting. I'll take some aspirin. She reached over and snapped out the light, and with his arm tight about her waist they walked up the stairs together. Two. Harry's week passed. They drove about the dreaming lanes or idled in cheerful inanity upon lake or lawn. In the evening, Roxanne sitting inside played to them while the ashes whitened on the glowing ends of their cigars. Then

came a telegram from Kitty saying that she wanted Harry to come east and get her, so Roxanne Anne and Jeffrey were left alone in that privacy of which they never seemed to tire. Alone thrilled them again. They wandered about the house, each feeling intimately the presence of the other. They sat on the same side of the table like honeymooners. They were intensely absorbed, intensely happy. The town of Marlowe, though a comparatively old settlement, had only recently acquired a society. Five or six years before, alarmed at the smoky swelling of Chicago, two or three young married couples bungalow people had moved out their friends had followed the geoffrey curtains found an already formed set prepared to welcome them a country club ballroom and golf links yawned for them and there were bridge parties and poker parties and parties where they drank beer and parties where they drank nothing at all it was at a poker party that they found themselves a week after harry's departure there were two tables and a good proportion of the young wives were smoking

and shouting their bets and being very daringly mannish for those days. Roxanne had left the game early and taken to perambulation. She wandered into the pantry and found herself some grape juice. Beer gave her a headache, and then passed from table to table, looking over shoulders at the hands, keeping an eye on Jeffery and being pleasantly unexcited and content. Jeffery, with intense concentration, was raising a pile of chips of all colors, and Roxanne knew by the deepened wrinkle between his eyes that he was interested. She liked to see him interested in small things. She crossed over quietly and sat down on the arm of his chair. She sat there five minutes listening to the sharp intermittent comments of the men and the

chatter of the women, which rose from the table like soft smoke, and yet scarcely hearing either. Then quite innocently she reached out her hand, intending to place it on Jeffrey's shoulder. as it touched him he started of a sudden, gave a short grunt, and, sweeping back his arm furiously, caught her a glancing blow on her elbow. There was a general gasp. Roxanne regained her balance, gave a little cry, and rose quickly to her feet. It had been the greatest shock of her life. This from Geoffrey, the heart of kindness of consideration, this instinctively brutal gesture. The gasp became a silence. A dozen eyes were turned on Geoffrey, who looked up as the though seeing Roxanne for the first time, an expression of bewilderment settled on his face.

Why, Roxanne, he said haltingly, in a dozen minds entered a quick suspicion, a rumor of scandal. Could it be that behind the scenes with this couple apparently so in love lurked some curious antipathy? Why else this streak of fire across such a cloudless heaven? Jeffrey! Roxanne's voice was pleading, startled and horrified. She yet knew that it was, was a mistake. Not once did it occur to her to blame him or to resent it. Her word was a trembling supplication. "'Tell me, Geoffrey,' it said. "'Tell Roxanne your own Roxanne.'

"'Why, Roxanne,' began Jeffrey again, the bewildered look changed to pain. He was clearly as startled as she. "'I didn't intend that,' he went on. "'You startled me. You—I felt as if someone were attacking me. I—how—why how idiotic? geoffrey again the word was a prayer incense offered up to a high god through this new and unfathomable darkness they were both on their feet they were saying goodbye faltering apologizing explaining there was no attempt to pass it off easily that way lay sacrilege geoffrey had not been feeling well they said he had become nervous back of both their minds was the unexplained horror of that blow the marvel that there had been for an instant something between them his anger and her fear and now to both a sorrow momentary no doubt but to be bridged at once at once while there was yet time was that swift water lashing under their feet the fierce glint of some uncharted chasm out in their car under the harvest moon he talked brokenly it was just incomprehensible to him he said he had been thinking of the poker game absorbed and the touch on his shoulder had seemed like a an attack, an attack, he clung to that word, flung it up as a shield. He had hated what touched him.

With the impact of his hand it had gone, that nervousness. That was all he knew. Both their eyes filled with tears, and they whispered love there under the broad night as the serene streets of Marlowe sped by. Later when they went to bed, they were quite calm. Jeffrey was to take a week off all work, was simply to lull and sleep and go on long walks until this nervousness left him. When they had decided this, safety settled down upon Roxanne. The pillows underhead became soft and friendly.

The bed on which they lay seemed wide and white and sturdy beneath the radiance that streamed in at the window. Five days later, in the first cool of late afternoon, Jeffrey picked up an oak chair and sent it crashing through his own front window. Then he lay down on the couch like a child, weeping piteously and begging to die. A blood clot the size of a marble had broken his brain.

Three. There is a sort of waking nightmare that sets in sometimes when one has missed a sleep or two, a feeling that comes with extreme fatigue and a new sun, that the quality of life around has changed. It is a fully articulate conviction that somehow the existence one is then leading is a branch chute of life and is related to life only as a moving picture. or a mirror, that the people and streets and houses are only projections from a very dim and chaotic past. It was in such a state that Roxanne found herself during the first months of Jeffrey's illness. She slept only when she was utterly exhausted. She awoke under a cloud,

the long, sober-voiced consultations, the faint aura of medicine in the halls, the sudden tiptoeing in a house that had echoed to many cheerful footsteps, and, most of all, Jeffrey's white face amid the pillows of the bed they had shared. These things subdued her and made her indelibly older. The doctors held out hope, but that was all. A long rest, they said, and quiet. So responsibility came to Roxanne. It was she who paid the bills, poured over his bank book,

corresponded with his publishers. She was in the kitchen constantly. She learned from the nurse how to prepare his meals, and after the first month took complete charge of the same. sick room. She had to let the nurse go for reasons of economy. One of the two colored girls left at the same time. Roxanne was realizing that they had been living from short story to short story. The most frequent visitor was Harry Cromwell. He had been shocked and depressed by the news, and though his wife was now living with him in Chicago, he found time to come out several times

a month. Roxanne found his sympathy welcome. There was some quality of suffering in the man, some inherent pitifulness that made her comfortable when he was near. Roxanne's nature had suddenly deepened. She felt sometimes that with Geoffrey she was losing her children also, those children that now most of all she needed and should have had. It was six months after Jeffrey's collapse, and when the nightmare had faded, leaving not the old world but a new one, grayer and colder,

that she went to see Harry's wife, finding herself in Chicago with an extra hour before her turn. train time she decided out of courtesy to call. As she stepped inside the door, she had an immediate impression that the apartment was very like someplace she had been before, and almost instantly she remembered the round, the corner bakery of her childhood, a bakery full of rows and rows of pink frosted cakes, a stuffy pink pink is a food, pink, triumphant, vulgar and odious, and this apartment was like that. It was pink. It smelled pink.

cromwell attired in a wrapper of pink and black opened the door her hair was yellow heightened roxan imagined by a dash of peroxide in the rinsing water every week her eyes were a thin waxen blue she was pretty and too consciously graceful her cordiality was strident and intimate hostility melted so quickly to hospitality that it seemed they were both merely in the face and voice never touching nor touched by the deep core of egotism beneath. But to Roxanne these things were secondary. Her eyes were caught and held in uncanny fascination by the wrapper. It was vilely unclean. From its lowest hem up four inches, it was sheerly dirty with the blue dust of the floor. For the next three inches it was gray. Then it shaded off into its natural color, which was pink.

It was dirty at the sleeves, too, and at the collar. and when the woman turned to lead the way into the parlor, Roxanne was sure that her neck was dirty. A one-sided rattle of conversation began. Mrs. Cromwell became explicit about her likes and dislikes, her head, her stomach, her teeth, her apartment, avoiding with a sort of insolent meticulousness any inclusion of Roxanne with life,

as if presuming that Roxanne, having been dealt a blow, wished life to be carefully skirted. Roxanne smiled, that kimono, That neck. After five minutes a little boy toddled into the parlor, a dirty little boy clad in dirty pink rompers. His face was smudgy. Roxanne wanted to take him into her lap and wipe his nose.

Other parts of his head needed attention. His tiny shoes were kicked out at the toes. Unspeakable. What a darling little boy! exclaimed Roxanne, smiling radiantly. Come here to me. Mrs. Cromwell looked coldly at her son. He will get dirty. Look at that.

face. She held her head on one side and regarded it critically. Isn't he a darling? repeated Roxanne. Look at his rompers, frowned Mrs. Cromwell. He needs a change, don't you, George? George stared at her curiously. To his mind, the word rompers connotated a garment extraneously smeared as this one. I tried to make him look respectable this morning, complained Mrs. Cromwell, as one whose patience had been sorely tried,

and I found he didn't have any more rompers, so rather than have him go around without any, I put him back in those, and his face. How many pairs has he?' Roxanne's voice was pleasantly curious. "'How many feather fans have you?' she might have asked. "'Oh!' Mrs. Cromwell considered wrinkling her pretty brow. "'Five, I think. Plenty, I know. You can get them for fifty cents a pair.' Mrs. Cromwell's eyes showed surprise, and the faintest superiority. The price of rompers.

"'Can you really? I had no idea. He ought to have to have plenty but I haven't had a minute all week to send to the laundry out then dismissing the subject is irrelevant I must show you some things they rose and Roxanne followed her past an open bathroom door whose garment littered floor showed indeed that the laundry hadn't been sent out for some time into another room that was so to speak the quintessence of pinkness it was Mrs. Cromwell's room here the hostess opened a closet door and displayed before Roxanne's eyes an amazing collection of lingerie. There were dozens of filmy marvels of lace and silk, all clean, unruffled, seemingly not yet touched. On hangers beside them were three new evening dresses. "'I have some beautiful things,' said Mrs. Cromwell, "'but not much of a chance to wear them. Harry doesn't care about going out.' Spike crept into her voice. He's perfectly content to let me play nursemaid and housekeeper all day and loving wife in the evening.

Roxanne smiled again. You've got some beautiful clothes here. Yes, I have. Let me show you. Beautiful, repeated Roxanne, interrupting. But I'll have to run if I'm going to catch my train. She felt that her hands were trembling. She wanted to put them on this woman and shake her. Shake her.

She wanted her locked up somewhere and set to scrubbing floors. Beautiful, she repeated, and I just came in for a moment. Well, I'm sorry, here. isn't here they moved toward the door and oh said Roxanne with an effort yet her voice was still gentle and her lips were smiling I think it's Argyles where you can get those rompers good-bye it was not until she had reached the station and bought her ticket to Marlowe that Roxanne realized it was the first five minutes in six months that her mind had been off geoffrey four a week later Harry appeared at Marlowe arrived unexpectedly at five o'clock and

and coming up the walk sank into a porch chair in a state of exhaustion. Roxanne herself had had a busy day and was worn out. The doctors were coming at 5.30, bringing a celebrated nerve specialist from New York. She was excited and thoroughly depressed, but Harry's eyes made her sit down beside him. What's the matter? Nothing, Roxanne, he denied. I came to see how Jeff was doing. Don't you bother about me. Harry, insisted Roxanne.

There's something the matter. Nothing, he repeated. How's Jeff? Anxiety darkened her face. He's a little worse, Harry. Dr. Jewett has come on from New York. They thought he could tell me something definite. He's going to try and find whether this paralysis has anything to do with the original blood clot.

Harry rose. Oh, I'm sorry, he said jerkily. I didn't know you expected a consultation. I wouldn't have come. I thought I'd just rock on your porch for an hour. "'Sit down,' she commanded. Harry hesitated. "'Sit down, Harry, dear boy.

Her kindness flooded out now, enveloped him. "'I know there's something to matter. "'You're white as a sheet. "'I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer.' "'All at once he collapsed into his chair "'and covered his face with his hands. "'I can't make her happy,' he said slowly. "'I've tried and I've tried.

"'This morning we had some words about breakfast. "'I'd been getting my breakfast downtown, and well just after I went to the office she left the house went east to her mothers with George in a suitcase full of lace underwear Harry and I don't know there was a crunch on the gravel a car turning into the drive Roxanne uttered a little cry it's dr. Jewett oh I'll you'll wait won't you she interrupted abstractedly he saw that his problem had already died on the troubled surface of her mind there was an embarrassing minute of vague

he leaded instructions, and then Harry followed the party inside and watched them disappear up the stairs. He went into the library and sat down on the big sofa. For an hour he watched the sun creep up the pattern folds of the chintz curtains. In the deep, quiet, a trapped wasp buzzing on the inside of the window pane assumed the proportions of a clamor. From time to time, another buzzing drifted down from upstairs, resembling several more larger wasps caught on larger window panes. He heard low footfalls, the clink of bottles, the clamor of pouring water. What had he and Roxanne done that life should deal these crashing blows to them? Upstairs there was taking place a living inquest on the soul of his friend. He was sitting

here in a quiet room listening to the plaint of a wasp, just as when he was a boy he had been compelled by a strict aunt to sit hour long on a chair and atone for some misbehavior. But who had put him here? What ferocious aunt had leaned out of the sky to make him atone for what? About Kitty, he felt a great hopelessness. She was too expensive. That was the irremediable difficulty. Suddenly, he hated her. He wanted to throw her down and kick at her, to tell her she was a cheat and a leech, that she was dirty. Moreover, she must give him his boy. He rose and began pacing up and down the room. Simultaneously he heard someone began to be. walking along the hallway upstairs in exact time with him. He found himself wondering if they

would walk in time until the person reached the end of the hall. Kitty had gone to her mother. God help her! What a mother to go to! He tried to imagine the meeting. The abused wife collapsing upon the mother's breast. He could not. That Kitty was capable of any deep grief was unbelievable. He had gradually grown to think of her as something unapproachable and callous. She would get a divorce, of course, and eventually she would marry again. He began to consider this. Whom would she marry? He laughed bitterly, stopped. A picture flashed before him, of Kitty's arms around some man whose face he could not see,

of Kitty's lips pressed close to other lips in what was surely passion. God! he cried aloud. God, God, God! Then the pictures came thick and fast. The Kitty of this morning faded. the soiled kimono rolled up and disappeared the pouts and rages and tears were all washed away again she was kitty car kitty car with yellow hair and great baby eyes ah she had loved him she had loved him after a time he perceived that something was amiss with him something that had nothing to do with kitty or jeff something of a different genre amazingly it burst on him at last he was hungry simple enough he would go into the kitchen in a moment and ask the color cook for a sandwich. After that he must go back to the city. He paused at the wall, jerked at

something round, and fingering it absently, put it to his mouth and tasted it as a baby tastes a bright toy. His teeth closed on it. Ah, she'd left that damn kimono, that dirty pink kimono. She might have had the decency to take it with her, he thought. It would hang in the house like the corpse of their sick alliance. He would try to throw it away, but he would never be able to bring himself to move it. It would be like Kitty, soft and pliable, with all impervious. You couldn't move, Kitty. You couldn't reach Kitty. There was nothing there to reach. He understood that perfectly. He had understood it all along. He reached to the wall for another biscuit, and with an effort pulled it out, nail and all. He carefully removed the nail from the

center, wondering idly if he had eaten the nail with the first biscuit. Preposterous, he would have remembered. It was a huge nail. he felt his stomach he must be very hungry he considered remembered yesterday he had had no dinner it was the girl's day out and kitty had lain in her room eating chocolate drops she had said she felt smothery and couldn't bear having him near her he had given george a bath and put him to bed and then lain down on the couch intending to rest a minute before getting his own dinner there he had fallen asleep and awakened about eleven to find that there was nothing in the ice-box except a spoonful of potato salad this he had eaten together with some chocolate drops that he found on kitty's bureau this morning he had breakfasted hurriedly down town before going to the office but at noon beginning to worry about kitty he had decided to go home and take her out to lunch after that there had been the note on his pillow the pile of lingerie in the closet was gone and she had left instructions for sending her trunk he had never been so hungry he thought at five o'clock when the visiting nurse tiptoed downstairs he was sitting on the sofa staring at the carpet mr cromwell yes oh mrs curton won't be able to see you at dinner she's not well she told me to tell you that the cook will fix you something and that there's a spare bedroom she's sick you say she's lying down in her room the consultation is just over did they did they decide anything yes said the nurse softly

dr jewett says there's no hope mr curton may live indefinitely but he'll never see again or move again or think you'll just breathe just breathe yes for the first time the nurse noted that beside the writing-desk where she remembered that she had seen a line of dozen curious round objects she had vaguely imagined to be some exotic form of decoration there was now only one where the others had been there was now a series of little nail-holes harry followed her glance dazedly and then rose to his feet i don't believe i'll stay i believe there's a train she nodded harry picked up his hat good boy she said pleasantly good-bye he answered as though talking to himself and evidently moved by some involuntaryness necessity he paused on his way to the door and she saw him pluck the last object from the wall and drop it into his pocket then he opened the screen door and descending the porch steps passed out of her sight five after a while the coat of clean white paint on the geoffrey curtain house made a definite compromise with the sons of many julyes and showed its good faith by turning gray it scaled huge peelings of very brittle old paint leaned over backward like aged men practicing grotesque gymnastics, and finally dropped to a moldy death in the overgrown grass beneath. The paint on the front pillars became streaky. The white ball was knocked off the left-hand doorpost. The green blinds darkened, then lost all pretense of color. It began to be a

house that was avoided by the tender-minded. Some church bought a lot diagonally opposite for a graveyard, and this, combined with the place where Mrs. Curtin stays with that living corpse, was enough to throw a ghostly aura over that quarter of the road. Not that she was left alone. Men and women came to see her, met her downtown, where she went to do her marketing, brought her home in their cars, and came in for a moment to talk and rest, in the glamour that still played in her smile. But men who did not know her no longer followed her with admiring glances in the street. A diaphanous veil had come down over her beauty, destroying its vividness, yet bringing neither wrinkles nor fat. She acquired a character in the village. A group of little stories were told of her.

How when the country was frozen over one winter so that no wagons nor automobiles could travel, she taught herself to skate so that she could make quick time to the grocer and druggist and not leave Jeffrey alone for long. It was said that every night since his paralysis she slept in a small bed beside his bed, holding his hand. Jeffrey Curtin was spoken of as though he were already dead. As the years dropped by those who had known him died or moved away. There were but half a dozen of the old crowd who had drunk cocktails together, called each other's wives by their first names, and thought that Jeff was about the wittiest and most talented fellow that Marlowe had ever known. How, to the casual visitor, he was merely the reason that Mrs.

Curtin excused herself sometimes and hurried upstairs. He was a groan or a sharp cry born to the silent parlor on the heavy air of a Sunday afternoon. He could not move. He was stone-blind, dumb, and totally unconscious. All day he lay in his bed except for a shift to his wheelchair every morning while she straightened the room. His paralysis was creeping slowly toward his heart. At first, for the first year, Roxanne had received the faintest answering pressure sometimes when she held his hand. Then it had gone, ceased one evening and never come back, and through two nights Roxanne lay wide-eyed, staring into the dark and wondering what had gone, what fraction of his soul had taken flight, what last grain of comprehension,

those shattered broken nerves still carried to the brain. After that, Hope died. Had it not been for her unceasing care, the last spark would have gone long before. Every morning she shaved and bathed him, shifted him with her own hands from bed to chair, and back to bed. She was in his room constantly, bearing medicine, straightening a pillow, talking to him almost as one talks to a nearly human dog, without hope of response or appreciation, but with the dim persuasion of habit, a prayer when faith has gone.

Not a few people, one celebrated nerve specialist among them, gave her a plain impression that it was futile to exercise so much care, that if Jeffrey had been conscious he would have wished to die, that if his spirit were hovering in some wider air, it would agree to know such sacrifice from her. It would fret only for the prison of its body to give it full release. But you see, she replied, shaking her head gently, when I married Geoffrey it was until I ceased to love him. But, was protested in effect, you can't love that. I can love what it once was. What else is there for me to do? The specialist shrugged his shoulders and went away

to say that Mrs. Curtin was a remarkable woman, and just about as sweet as an angel, but, he added, it was a terrible pity. There must be some man or a dozen just crazy to take care of her. Casually there were. Here and there someone began in hope and ended in reverence. There was no love in the woman except strangely enough for life, for the people in the world, from the tramp to whom she gave food she could ill afford to the butcher who sold her a cheat cut of steak across the meaty board. The other phase was sealed up somewhere in that expressionless moment. mummy who lay with his face turned ever toward the light as mechanically as a compass needle and

waited dumbly for the last wave to crash over his heart. After 11 years he died in the middle of a May night when the scent of the syringa hung upon a windowsill and a breeze wafted in the shrillings of the frogs and cicadas outside. Roxanne awoke it too and realized with a start she was alone in the house at last. Six. After that she sat on her weather-beaten ports through many afternoons, gazing down across the fields that undulated in a slow descent to the white and green town. She was wondering what she would do with her life. She was 36, handsome, strong, and free. The years had eaten up Jeffrey's insurance. She had reluctantly parted with the acres to right and left of her, and had even placed a small mortgage on the house. With her husband's death had been,

become a great physical restlessness. She missed having to take care of him in the morning. She missed her rush to town in the brief and therefore accentuated neighborly meetings in the butchers and grocers. She missed the cooking for two, the preparation of delicate liquid food for him. One day, consumed with energy, she went out and spaded up the whole garden, a thing that had not been done for years. And she was alone at night in the room that had seen the glory of her marriage and then the pain. To meet Jeff again, she went back in spirit to that wonderful year, that intense, passionate, absorption and companionship rather than looked forward to a problematical meeting hereafter. She awoke often to lie and

wish for that presence beside her, inanimate yet breathing, still Jeff. One afternoon, six months after his death, she was sitting on the porch in a black dress which took away the faintest suggestion of plunkness from her figure. It was Indian summer, golden brown all about her, a hush broken by the sighing of leaves westward a four o'clock sun dripping streaks of red and yellow over a flaming sky most of the birds had gone only a sparrow that had built itself a nest on the cornice of a pillar kept up an intermittent sheeping varied by occasional fluttering sallies overhead roxanne moved her chair to where she could watch him and her mind idled drowsily on the bosom of the afternoon harry cromwell was coming out from chicago to dinner since he was a little bit of her chair to her his divorce over eight years before he had been a frequent visitor. They had kept up what amounted to a tradition between them. When he arrived, they would go to look at Jeff. Harry would sit down on the edge of the bed and in a hearty voice ask, Well, Jeff, old man, how do you feel

the day? Roxanne, standing beside, would look intently at Jeff, dreaming that some shadowy recognition of this former friend had passed across that broken mind. But the head, pale carbon, would only move slowly in its soul gesture toward the light, as if something behind the blind eyes were groping for another light long since gone out. These visits stretched over eight years. At Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and on many a Sunday, Harry had arrived, paid his call on Jeff and then talked for a long while with Roxanne on the porch. He was devoted to her. He made no pretense of hiding, no attempt to deepen, this relation. She was his best friend, as the mass of flesh on the bed there had been. He was a been his best friend. She was peace, she was rest, she was the past. Of his own tragedy, she

alone knew. He had been at the funeral, but since then the company for which he worked had shifted him to the east, and only a business trip had brought him to the vicinity of Chicago. Roxanne had written to him, come when he could. After a night in the city he had caught a train out. They shook hands, and he helped her move two rockers together. How's George? He's fine, Roxanne. Seems to like school. Of course it was the only thing to do, to send him. Of course. You miss him horribly, Harry? Yes, I do miss him. He's a funny boy. He talked a lot about George. Roxanne was interested. Harry must bring him out on his next vacation. She had only seen him once in her life, a child in dirty rompers. She left him with the newspaper while she

prepared dinner. She had four shops tonight and some late vegans. from her own garden. She put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they continued their talk about George. "'If I had a child,' she would say. Afterward, Harry, having given her what slender advice he could about investments, they walked through the garden, pausing here and there to recognize what had once been a cement bench or where the tennis court had lain. "'Do you remember?' Then they were off on a flood of reminiscences. The day they had taken all the snapshots and Jeff

had been photographed astride the calf, and the sketch Harry had made of Jeff and Roxanne lying sprawled in the grass, their heads almost touching. There was to have been a covered lattice connecting the barn studio with the house, so that Jeff could get there on wet days. The lattice had been started, but nothing remained except a broken triangular piece that still adhered to the house and resembled a battered chicken coop. And those mint juleps! And Jeff's notebook! Do you remember how we'd laugh, Harry, when we'd get it out of his pocket and read a loud a page of material, and how frantic he used to get? Wild, he was such a kid about his writing.

They were both silent a moment, and then Harry said, We were to have a place out here, too, do you remember? We were to buy the adjoining twenty acres, and the parties we were going to have. Again there was a pause, broken this time by a low question from Roxanne. Do you ever hear of her, Harry? Why, yes, he admitted. placidly. She's in Seattle. She's married again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He is a great deal older than she is, I believe. And she's behaving? Yes, that is,

I've heard so. She has everything, you see, nothing much to do except dress up for this fellow at dinner-time. I see. Without effort, he changed the subject. Are you going to keep the house? I think so, she said nodding. I've lived here so long, Harry. It had seemed terrible to move. I thought of trained nursing, but of course that had been leaving. I've about decided to be a boarding-house lady. Live in one? No, keep one. Is there such an anomaly as a boarding-house lady? Anyway, I'd have a negress and keep about eight people in the summer, and two or three if I can get them in the winter. Of course, I'll have to have the house repainted and gone over inside.

Harry considered. Roxanne, why, naturally you know best what you can do, but it does seem to a shock, Roxanne. You came here as a bride. Perhaps, she said, that's why I don't mind remaining here as a boarding-house lady. I remember a certain batch of biscuits. Oh, those biscuits, she cried. Still, from all I heard about the way you devoured them, they couldn't have been so bad. I was so low that day, yet somehow I laughed when the nurse told me about those biscuits. I noticed that the twelve nail-holes are still on the library wall where Jeff drove them. Yes.

getting very dark now a crispness settled in the air a little gust of wind sent down a last spray of leaves roxan shivered slightly we'd better go in he looked at his watch it's late i've got to be leaving i go east tomorrow must you they lingered for a moment just below the stoop watching a moon that seemed full of snow flowed out of the distance where the lake lay summer was gone and now indian summer the grass was cold and there was no mist and no dew after he left she would go in and light the gas and close the shutters he would go down the path and on to the village to these two life had come quickly and gone leaving not bitterness but pity not disillusion but only pain there was already enough moonlight when they shook hands for each to see the gathered kindness in the other's eyes end of section eleven read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark.blogspot.com. Section 12 of Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by Don W. Jenkins. Mr. Icky, the quintessence of quaintness in one act. The scene is the exterior of a cottage in West Isaacshire on a desperately arcadian afternoon in August. mr icky quaintly dressed in the costume of an elizabethan peasant is pottering and dottering among the pots and dodds he is an old man well past the prime of life no longer young from the fact that there is a bur in his speech and that he has absent-mindedly put on his coat wrong side out we surmise that he is either above or below the ordinary superficialities of life near him on the grass lies peter a little boy peter of course has his chin on his palm like the pictures of the young sir walter raleigh he has a complete set of features including serious sombre even funereal grey eyes and radiates that alluring air of never having eaten food this air can best be radiated during the afterglow of a beef dinner he is looking at mr icky fascinated

silence the song of birds peter often at night i sit at my window and regard the stars sometimes i think they're my stars gravely i think i shall be a star some day mr icky whimsically yes yes yes peter i know them all venus mars neptune gloria swanson mr icky i don't take no stock in astronomy i don't take no stock in astronomy i don't take no stock in astronomy i don't know them all-i know them all venus mars neptune gloria swanson mr I don't take no stock in astronomy. I've been thinking a linen, laddie, and calling to mind my daughter, who has gone for it to be a typewriter." He sighs. Peter. I like Dosa, Mr. Icky. She was so plump, so round, so buxom. Mr. Icky.

Not worth the paper she was patted with, laddie. He stumbles over a pile of pots and dods. Peter. How is your asthma, Mr. Icky? Mr. Icky. Worse, thank God, gloomily. I'm a hundred years old, I'm getting brittle. Peter.

I suppose life has been pretty tame since you gave up petty arson. Mr. Icky. Yes, yes. You see, Peter, laddie, when I was fifty, I reformed once in prison. Peter. You went wrong again? Mr. Icky. Worse than that, the week before my term expired, they insisted on transferring to me the glands of a healthy young prisoner. executing peter and it renovated you mr icky renovated me it put the old nick back into me this young criminal was evidently a suburban burglar and a kleptomaniac what was a little playful arson in comparison peter awed

how ghastly science is the bunk mr icky sighing i got him pretty well subdued now tisn't every one who has to tire out two sets of glands in his lifetime i wouldn't take another set for all the animal spirits in an orphan asylum peter considering i shouldn't think you'd object to a nice quiet old clergyman's set mr icky clergyman haven't got glands they have souls there is a low sonorous honking off-stage to indicate that a large motor-car has stopped in the immediate vicinity then a young man handsomely attired in a dress suit and a patent leather silk hat comes on to the stage. He is very mundane. His contrast to the spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first row of the balcony. This is Rodney Divine. Divine. I'm looking for Ulza Icky. Mr. Icky rises and stands tremulously between two Dodds. Mr. Icky. My daughter is in London. Divine. She has left London. She has left London. she is coming here i have followed her he reaches into the little mother of pearl satchel that hangs at his side for cigarettes he selects one and scratching a match touches it to the cigarette the cigarette instantly lights divine i shall wait he waits several hours pass

there is no sound except an occasional cackle or hiss from the dods as they quarrel among themselves several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks by divine or a tumbling act as desired. Divine. It's very quiet here. Mr. Icky. Yes, very quiet. Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears. She is very worldly. It is Ulsa Icky. On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar to early Italian painting. Ulsa, in a coarse worldly voice. "'Father, here I am. Ulsa did what?' Mr. Icky, tremulously. "'Aulsa, little Ulsa!'

They embrace each other's torso. mr icky hopefully you're coming back to help with the ploughing ulsa sullenly no father ploughing such a bather i'd rather not though her accent is broad the content of her speech is sweet and clean divine conciliatingly see here ulza let's come to an understanding he advances toward her with the graceful even stride that made him captain of the striding team at cambridge ulsa you will say it would be a Jack? Mr. Icky. What does she mean? Divine, kindly. My dear, of course it would be Jack. It couldn't be Frank. Mr. Icky.

Frank who? Ulsa. It would be frank. Some risque joke can be introduced here. Mr. Icky, whimsically. No good fighting, no good fighting. Divine, reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford.

You'd better marry me. Ulsa, scornfully. Why, they wouldn't let me in through the servant's entrance of your house? Divine, angrily. They wouldn't, never fear you shall come in through the mistress entrance. Ulsa. Sir! Divine, in confusion.

I beg your pardon, you know what I mean. Mr. Icky, aching with whimsy. You want to marry my little Olsa? Divine. I do, Mr. Icky. Your record is clean. divine excellent i have the best constitution in the world ulsa and the worst bylas divine had eaten i was a member at pop at rugby i belonged to near beer as a younger son i was destined for the police force mr icky skip that have you money divine wads of it i should expect ulsa to go down town in sections every morning in two rose royces i have also a kitty-car and a converted tank i have seats at the opera

ulsa sullenly i can't sleep except in the box and have heard that you are cashiered from your club mr icky a cashier a divine hanging his head i was cashiered ulsa what for divine almost inaudibly i hid the polo balls one day for a joke mr icky is your mind in good shape divine gloomily fair after all what is brilliance merely the tact to sow when no one is looking and reap when every one is mr icky be careful i will not marry my daughter to an epigram divine more gloomily i assure you i'm a mere platitude i often descend to the level of an innate idea ulsa dolly none of what you're seeing matters i can't marry a man who thinks it would be jack why frank would divine interrupting nonsense ulsa emphatically you're a fool mr icky tte tte one should not judge charity my girl what was it nero said with malice toward none and charity toward all Peter that wasn't Nero that was John Drinkwater mr. Icky come who is this Frank who is Jack divine morosely gatch ulsa Dempsey divine we were arguing that if they were deadly enemies and locked in a room together which one would come out alive now I

claim that Jack Dempsey would take one ulza angrily rot he wouldn't have a divine quickly you win ulsa then i love you again mr icky so i'm going to lose my little daughter ulsa you still got a house full of children charles ulsa's brother coming out of the cottage he is dressed as if to go to sea a coil of rope is slung about his shoulder and an anchor is hanging from his neck charles not seeing them i'm going to see i'm going to see his voice is triumphant Mr. Icky, sadly. You went to seed long ago. Charles. I've been reading Conrad. Peter, dreamily.

Conrad. Ah, two years before the mast by Henry James. Charles. What? Peter. Walter Pater's version of Robinson Crusoe. Charles. To his fathor.

I can't stay here and rock with you. I want to live my life. I want to hunt eels. Mr. Icky. I will be here when you come back." Charles, contemptuously, Why, the worms are licking their chops already when they hear your name? It will be noticed that some of the characters have not spoken for some time.

It will improve the technique if they can be rendering a spirited saxophone number. Mr. Icky mournfully, These veils, these hills, these McCormick harvesters, they mean nothing to my children, I understand. Charles, more gently. then you'll think of me kindly fayther to understand is to forgive mr icky no no we never forgive those we can understand we can only forgive those who wound us for no reason at all charles impatiently i'm so beastly sick of your human nature line and anyway i hate the hours around here several dozen more of mr icky's children trip out of the house trip over the grass and trip over the pots and dodds they are muttering we are going away and we're leaving you mr icky his heart-breaking they're all deserting me i've been too kind spare the rod and spoil the fun oh for the glands of a bismarck

there is a honking outside probably divines chauffeur growing impatient for his master mr icky in misery they do not love the soil they have been faithless to the great potato tradition he picks up a handful of soil passionately and rubs it on his bald head, hair sprouts. Oh, wordsworth, wordsworth, how true you spoke. No motion has she now, no force, she does not hear or feel, roll around on earth's diurnal course in someone's Oldsmobile. They all groan and shouting, life and jazz move slowly toward the wings. Charles, Back to the soil, yes, I've been trying to turn my back to the soil for ten years. Another child. The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who wants to be a backbone? Another child. I care not who owes the lettuce of my country if I can eat the salad.

All. Life. Psychic research. Jazz. Mr. Icky. Struggling with himself. I must be quaint. That's all there is. It's not life that counts. It's the quaintness you bring to it. All. We're going to slide down the Riviera. We've got tickets for micadilly circus life jazz mr icky wait let me read to you from the bible let me open it at random one always finds something that bears on the situation he finds a bible lying in one of the dodds and opening it at random begins to read

ahab estamo and on him goson and olan and gilo eleven cities in the villages erab and ruma and isa charles cruelly why ten more rings and try again mr icky trying again how beautiful art thou my love how beautiful art thou thy eyes are dove's eyes besides what is hid within thy harassest flocks of goats which come up from mount gillade hmm rather a coarse passage his children laugh at him rudely shouting jazz and all life is primarily suggestive mr icky despondently it won't work to-day hopefully maybe it's damp he feels it yes it's damp there was water in the dod it won't work all it's damp it won't work jazz one of the children come we must catch the six-thirty any other cue may be inserted here mr icky mr icky good-bye they all go out mr icky is left alone he sighs and walking over to the cottage steps lies down and closes his eyes twilight has come down and the stage is flooded with such light as never was on land or sea there is no sound except a sheepherder's wife in the distance playing an aria from beethoven's tenth symphony on a mouth organ the great white and grey moths swoop down and light on the old man until he is completely covered by them but he does not stir the curtain goes up and down several times to denote the lapse of several minutes a good comedy effect can be obtained by having mr icky cling to the curtain and go up and down with it fireflies or fairies on wires can also be introduced at this point then peter appears a look of almost imbecile sweetness on his face in his hand he clutches something and from time to time glances at it in a transport of ecstasy after a struggle with himself he lays it on the old man's body he lays it on the old man's body

and then quietly withdraws. The moths chatter among themselves and then scurry away in sudden fright, and as night deepens, there still sparkles there, small, white, and round, breathing a subtle perfume to the West Isaacshire breeze, Peter's gift of love. A mothball. The play can end at this point, or can go on indefinitely. End of Section 12, read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho San Diego, California, BART. blogspot.com. Section 13 of Tales of the Jazz Age by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Don W. Jenkins.

Gemina, the Mountain Girl. This don't pretend to be literature. This is just a tale for red-blooded folks who want a story, and not just a lot of psychological stuff or analysis. Boy, you'll love it. Read it here. See it in the movies. Play it on the phonograph. Run it through the sewing machine. A wild thing. It was night in the mountains of Kentucky. Wild hills rose on all sides. Swift mountain streams flowed rapidly up and down the mountains.

Jemina Tantrum was down at the stream, brewing whiskey at the family still. She was a typical mountain girl. Her feet were bare. Her hands large and powerful hung down below her knees. Her face showed the ravages of work. although but sixteen she had for over a dozen years been supporting her aged pappy and mappy by brewing mountain whiskey from time to time she would pause in her task and filling a dipper full of the pure invigorating liquid would drain it off then pursue her work with renewed vigor she would place the rye in the vat thresh it out with her feet and in twenty minutes the completed product would be turned out a sudden cry made her pause in the act of draining a dipper and look up hello said a man it came from a man clad in hunting-boats reaching to his neck who had emerged can you tell me the way to the tantrum's cabin are you uns from the settlements down thar she pointed her hand down to the bottom of the hill where louisville lay she had never been there but once before she was born her great-grandfather old gore tantrum had gone into the settlements in the company of two marshals and had never come back so the tantrums from generation to generation had learned to dread civilisation the man was amused he laughed a light tinkling laugh the laugh of a philadelphia something in the ring of it thrilled her she drank off another dipper of whisky

where is mr tantrum little girl he asked not without kindness she raised her foot and pointed her big toe toward the woods thar in the caving behind those thar pines old tantrum here my old man the man from the settlements thanked her and strode off he was fairly vibrant with youth and personality as he walked along he whistled and sang and turned handsprings and flapjacks breathing in the fresh cool air of the mountains the air around the still was like wine jemina tantrum watched him entranced no one like him had ever come into her life before she sat down on the grass and counted her toes she counted eleven she had learned arithmetic in the mountain school a mountain feud ten years before a lady from the settlements had opened a school on the mountain jemina had no money but she had paid her way in whisky bringing a pailful to school every morning and leaving it on miss lafarge's desk miss lafarge had died of delirium tremens after a year's teaching and so jemina's education had stopped across the still stream still another still was standing it was that of the doldrums the doldrums and the tantrums never exchanged calls they hated each other fifty years before old jim doldrum and old jem tantrum had quarrelled in the tantrum cabin over a game of slapjack jim doldrum had thrown the king of hearts in jem tantrum's face and old jim tantrum had quarrelled in the tantrum's face and old jim tantrum had quarrelled in the tantrum's face and old jim tantrum had quarrel had quarrel'd throne the king of hearts in Jim Tantrum's face and old tantrum enraged had felled the old doldrum with the nine of diamonds. Other doldrums and tantrums had joined in and the little cabin was

soon filled with flying cards. Harstrom Doldrum, one of the younger doldrums, lay stretched on the floor, writhing in agony. The ace of hearts crammed down his throat. Jim Tantrum, standing in the doorway, ran through suit after suit, his face alight with fiendish hatred. Old Mappy Tandrum, stood on the table wetting down the doldrums with hot whiskey old heck doldrum having finally run out of trumps was backed out of the cabin striking left and right with his tobacco pouch and gathering around him the rest of his clan they mounted their steers and galloped furiously home that night old man doldrum and his sons vowing vengeance had returned put a tick-tock on the tantrum window stuck a pin in the doorbell and beaten a retreat a week later the tantrums had put codel liver oil in the doldrum still and so from year to year the feud had continued first one family being entirely wiped out then the other the birth of love every day little jemina worked the still on her side of the stream and bosco doldrum worked the still on his side sometimes with automatic inherited hatred the feudists would throw whiskey at each other and jimina would come home smelling like a french tablidote but now jimina was too thoughtful to look across the stream, how wonderful the stranger had been and how oddly he was dressed. In her innocent way, she had never believed that there were any civilized settlements at all, and she had put the belief

in them down to the credulity of the mountain people. She turned to go up to the cabin, and as she turned, something struck her in the neck. It was a sponge thrown by Bosco Doldrum, a sponge soaked in whiskey from his still on the other side of the stream. Hi there, Bosco Doldrum, she shouted in her deep-based voice. yo jemina tantrum gosh ding yo he returned she continued her way to the cabin the stranger was talking to her father gold had been discovered on the tantrum land and the stranger edgar edison was trying to buy the land for a song he was considering what song to offer she sat upon her hands and watched him he was wonderful when he talked his lips moved she sat upon the stove and watched him suddenly there came a blood-curdling scream the tantrum's rushing to the windows. It was the doldrums. They had hitched their steers to trees and concealed themselves behind the bushes and flowers, and soon a perfect rattle of stones and bricks beat against the windows,

bending them inward. "'Father, father!' shrieked Jemina. Her father took down his slingshot from his slingshot rack on the wall and ran his hand lovingly over the elastic band. He stepped to a loophole. Old Mappi tantrum stepped to the coal-hole. A mountain-bron. A mountain-bringed, battle. The stranger was aroused at last. Furious to get at the doldrums, he tried to escape from the house by crawling up the chimney. Then he thought there might be a door under the bed, but Jemina told him there was not. He hunted for doors under the beds and sofas, but each time Jemina pulled him out and told him there were no doors there. Furious with anger he beat upon the door and hollered at the doldrums. They did not answer him, but kept up their fusillade of bricks and

stones against the window. Old Pappy Tantrum knew that just as soon as they were able to affect an aperture they would pour in and the fight would be over. Then old HECDOLDRM, foaming at the mouth and expectorating on the ground left and right led the attack. The terrific slingshots of Pappy Tantrum had not been without their effect. A master shot had disabled one doldrum and another doldrum shot almost incessantly through the abdomen, fought feebly on. Nearer, and nearer they approached the house. We must fly, shouted the stranger to Jemina. I will sacrifice myself and bear you away.

No, shouted Pappy Tantrum, his face begrimed. You stay here and fit on. I will bar Jemina away. I will bar Mappi away. I will bar myself away. The man from the settlements, pale and trembling with anger, turned to ham tantrum, who stood at the door throwing loophole after loophole at the advancing doldrums.

when you cover the retreat but ham said that he too had tantrums to bear away but that he would leave himself here to help the stranger cover the retreat if he could think of a way of doing it soon smoke began to filter through the door and ceiling shem doldrum had come up and touched a match to old japhit tantrum's breath as he leaned from a loophole and the alcoholic flames shot up on all sides the whisky and the bathtub caught fire the walls began to fall in jemina and the man from the loophole and the man from the loopholes from the water-up from the water-and-the-the-bath-bucked fire the walls began to fall in jemina and the man from the settlements looked at each other. "'Chemina,' he whispered. "'Strainger,' she answered. "'We will die together,' he said. "'If we had lived, I would have taken you to the city and married you. With your ability to hold liquor, your social success could have been assured.'

She caressed him idly for a moment, counting her toes softly to herself. The smoke grew thicker. Her left leg was on fire. She was a human alcohol lamp. Their lips met in one long kiss and then a wall, on them and blotted them out as one when the doldrums burst through the ring of flame they found them dead where they had fallen their arms about each other old jem doldrum was moved he took off his hat he filled it with whisky and drank it off they are dead he said slowly they hankered after each other the fit is over now we must not part them so they threw them together into the stream and the two splashes they made were as one end of section thirteen end of tales of the jazz age by f scott fitzgerald