Just Around the Corner: Romance en casserole
a favor, Miss Harkins."
A startled expression flashed across Lilly's face. Her friend sprang
into the breach like a life-saver off a pier.
"_Miss_ Harkins ain't the kind of a girl to sponge on nobody. Mr. Polly
knows if she's my friend she's all right."
"That's the idea," agreed Mr. Polly. "I like to see girls good friends."
The trio swung down the street.
"That's what I always say. Why, before Lil was mar--Why, me and Lil
never are stingy with our gentlemen friends. I was always the first one
to introduce you--wasn't I, Lil?"
"Yes; and me the same way," amended Lilly. "I think it's the right way
to be."
"I got a friend comin' up to the dance to-night, just about your style
of a fellow, Miss Harkins. One nice chap--he's been in the stock-room at
Tracy's for years; some little sport, too."
"Ain't that grand!" beamed Lulu. "Two couple of us!"
Lilly hummed a little air as they walked along, both girls receiving the
slightest of Mr. Polly's sallies with effusion.
"Oh, dear; it's just like going to a show to be with you, Mr. Polly,"
gasped Lulu, after the gentleman had waggled his ears beneath his hat
until it rose from his head with magician's skill. "How can you be so
comical! You ought to be on the stage."
"That ain't nothin'. You ought to see me keep all the girls in the laces
laughin'! I believe in laughin', not cryin'. By the way," he said,
elated with success, "guess this riddle: Why is a doughnut like a
life-preserver?"
Both puckered their brows and sought in vain for a similarity between
those widely diversified objects. After breathless volunteers the girls
owned themselves outwitted; then Mr. Polly relieved the situation.
"A doughnut is like a life-preserver," he explained, "because they're
both sinkers."
The two gasped with laughter, Lulu placing a helpful hand on her left
hip.
"Oh, Mr. Polly," she panted, "you're simply killin'!"
"Sim-ply kill-in'!" echoed Lilly.
They turned into the dance-hall. Lilly's nostrils widened; the pink flew
into her cheeks.
"Oh, say!" she cried; "I'd rather dance than eat."
Mr. Polly excused himself and hastened away to find his friend. He
returned with a dark young man, whose sartorial perfection left nothing
to be desired. He had been dancing, and wiped about the edge of his tall
collar with a purple-bordered silk handkerchief.
"Ladies," announced Mr. Polly, "I want to introduce you to the swellest
dancer on the floor to-night--you may think I'm kiddin', but I'm not.
Miss Tracy and Miss Harkins, this is my friend, Mr. George Sippy."
Mr. Sippy pirouetted on one tan oxford and cast his eyes upward. "I'm
all fussed," he said; "but pleased to meet you, ladies."
The girls laughed again. Then they strolled toward the dance-hall, where
the gentleman bought tickets. Dancing at the One Hundred and Fifteenth
Street Hall was five cents the selection.
The music struck up. Lulu crossed both hands upon her chest, Mr. Polly
clasped her round the waist, and they moved off with that sinew tension
peculiar to dance-halls. Mr. Sippy turned to Lilly.
"Will you go round, Miss Harkins?"
They melted into the embrace of the dance and moved off. When Mr. Sippy
danced every faculty was pressed into service--his head was thrown back
and his feet glided like well-trained automatons.
"Wasn't that just grand!" breathed Lilly, when the music ceased. She was
softly radiant.
"Swell!" agreed Mr. Sippy, applauding for an encore. "Swell!" He
regarded her with new interest. "You're some dancer, kid," he said.
"Oh, Mr. Sippy, who could help dancin' good with you?"
They glided away again. After the waltz they sought the side-lines,
where soft drinks were served. A waiter dabbed at the table-top; Lilly
fanned herself and ordered sarsaparilla.
"You don't look hot--you look cool," said Mr. Sippy, admiringly.
She took a dainty draught through her straw.
"I'm just happy--that's all," she replied.
The misery, the monotony, the wail of the mother, her own
desperation--were away back in the experience of another self. Life had
turned on its axis and swung her out of darkness into light. Girls in
lacy waists and with swagger hips laughed into her eyes; men looked at
her with frank admiration. George Sippy leaned toward her and looked
intimately into her face.
"Say," he said, "Polly must have known I like blondes."
"Oh, and I'm always wishin' to be a brunette!"
"You're my style, all right."
"I'll bet you say that to every girl."
"Nix I do. You can ask Polly if I ain't hard to suit. I know just what
style of girl I like."
"There's a lot in knowin' just what you like," she said, archly.
"That's some yellow hair you got," he observed, irrelevantly. "My sister
used to have hair like that."
She felt of her coiffure.
"Do you like 'em? You ought to see 'em just after they been washed."
Mr. Sippy expressed a polite desire to observe the phenomenon. They
danced again. Once in the maze of couples, they caught sight of Lulu and
Mr. Polly, and they changed partners; but after a while they drifted
together again.
"Gee!" said Mr. Sippy. "I'd rather dance with you."
"Ain't that funny?" said Lilly. "That's just what I was thinkin'."
They looked into each other's eyes.
"I ain't the kind of a fellow that takes up with every girl," explained
Mr. Sippy, in self-elucidation.
"That's just what I like," said Lilly; "that's just the way with me. It
ain't everybody I take a likin' to; but when I do like a person I like
'em."
"Now just look at me," went on Mr. Sippy. "If I wanted to I could bring
a girl down here every night; but I don't, just because it ain't often I
take a fancy to a girl."
"I like for a gentleman not to be so common-like."
"I like a person or I don't like them, that's all." He looked at her
ringless hands. "You ain't keepin' no steady company, are you?"
She colored clear up into her hair.
"No," she replied, in a breathy voice.
"Can I have the pleasure of escorting you to Coney to-morrow night?"
"I'll be pleased to accept your company," she said.
They danced again, and her hair brushed his cheek.
"You're some girl, all right!" he said, holding her close.
She giggled on his shoulder.
"Gee, but I love to dance!"
"Say," he said, looking down at her suspiciously, "is it my dancing you
like or me?"
"Silly!" she whispered. "I like you and your dancing."
"You're all right, little one!" he assured her.
When they finally left the hall the lights were beginning to dim. The
four of them went out into the quiet streets together. The street-cars
had ceased to rattle except at long intervals. They walked in twos, arms
interlaced, talking in subdued tones. A cool breeze had sprung up.
At a corner drug store they partook of foamy soda-water and scooped,
with long-handled spoons, refreshing mouthfuls of ice-cream from their
glasses. Perched on high stools before an onyx fountain, they regarded
themselves in the mirror and smiled at each other in the reflection.
At Lulu's rooming-house they lingered again, talking in subdued tones on
the brownstone stoop.
"I'll call for you early to-morrow night, Miss Harkins; and, since we
decided to make a party of it, me and Polly'll call for you and Miss
Tracy together."
"That'll be nice," she said.
"I'm glad you have no other fellow--I don't like no partnership stuff."
"I love Coney," she said.
At last they separated, and the two girls tiptoed up to the terrific
heat of their box.
"Phew!" gasped Lilly. "Ain't this just awful?"
Lulu lighted the gas and turned ecstatic eyes upon her friend.
"Lil, I always did say you brought me luck when it came to fellers--I
think I got him to-night, all right."
"Oh, Loo, ain't I glad!"
"Just feel my hand, Lil--how excited I am!"
"I'm sure glad for you, dearie."
"Glad! Girl, you don't know what I'd give to own a corner of my own,
where I'd never have to see a glove no more!"
She curled up on the bed, forgetful of everything but her own potential
happiness.
"He sure did everything but pop to-night. Come over here and kiss me,
kid."
They kissed.
"My red kimono's on the top shelf--you undress first; just help
yourself." She slumped deeper in bed. "I guess you didn't make some hit
yourself to-night, _Miss_ Harkins--and I guess I didn't make some hit
myself!"
Lulu laughed immoderately. Lilly fingered the lace at her throat.
"What's the matter? You ain't sore at the joke, are you, _Miss_
Harkins?"
"No," replied Lilly; she spoke through a mental and physical nausea--a
reaction which laid violent hold of and sickened her. Lulu loomed to her
like a grotesque figure. The imprint of Mr. Sippy's farewell hand-shake
was still moist in her own hand.
"What time is it, Loo?"
"Well, what do you know about that? It's ten after one! Gee! don't I
wish to-morrow was Sunday? You gotta climb out early with me if you're
goin' to that job."
"One o'clock!" Lilly's voice caught in terror. "One o'clock! I can't
beat Charley home no more now."
"Whatta you mean? Ain't you goin' to stay here with me? You ain't
quittin' now, are you--after all the trouble I went to to interdooce you
to my gentlemen friends?"
Lilly nodded.
"You been awfully good, Loo; but I ain't got the nerve. I gotta go back
to Charley."
Lulu jerked to a sitting posture, her feet dangling over the edge of the
bed.
"Well, ain't this a fine come-off! What'll my friends think of me? I
always say you never get no thanks for tryin' to help other people;
that's what I get for tryin' to do the right thing by you."
"It ain't you, Loo--I had a fine and dandy time."
"Come on, Lil--come to bed, and you'll be all right in the mornin'. Gee!
Won't the girls be glad to see the beauty back? Come on to bed--it's too
late for you to go back to-night, anyhow; there's time to talk 'bout
things in the mornin'. I wouldn't let any man know I couldn't get along
without him! Come on, Lil, and tell me what the guy to-night was like."
Lilly was pinning on her hat in an agony of haste.
"I left the note on the pincushion. If he goes in the kitchen for his
milk first, like he does on hot nights, maybe I can beat him! He may
be--"
Her voice trailed down the hall. She fumbled a little at the street
door, hot flushes darting over her body.
In the street-car Lilly dug her nails through the silk palms of her
gloves and sat on the edge of the seat, her pulse pounding in her ear.
Her voiceless prayer beat against her brain. She did not see or think
beyond the possibility of reaching their bedroom before her husband.
Charley was due home now--as she was lumbering across town in a
lethargic street-car. Her whole destiny hung on the frail thread of
possibility--the possibility that her husband would follow his wont of
warm nights and browse round the kitchen larder before entering their
room. She drew in a suffocating breath at the thought of Charley's
wrath--she had once seen him on the verge of anger.
To reach home and the note first! That hope beat against her temples; it
flooded her face with color; it turned her cold and clammy. She left the
car a corner too soon and ran the block, thinking to gain time over the
jogging street-car; it passed her midblock, and she sobbed in her
throat.
She turned the corner sharply. From the street she could see the yellow
glow of gas coming from a side-window of her apartment; the light must
come from one of two rooms--her sick senses could not determine which.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!" her breath came in long, inarticulate wheezes.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!" A policeman eyed her suspiciously and struck the
asphalt with his stick. She turned into the embrace of the apartment
house and ran up the three flights of stairs with limbs that trembled
under her; her cold fingers groped about before she could muster