It was embarrassing, to say the least! The young man strove vainly to
retain his equilibrium, also his hold upon the inert form in his arms.
But the color mounted in a vivid flush of red to his very blonde hair.
Then the nearby group of watchers laughed. He was still more confused.
The auburn locks of the fair figure in his arms became loosened and fell
in a cascade almost to the floor. The man was visibly disconcerted, and
letting go with one hand, he clutched at his collar and gazed wildly down
at the cold, upturned face.
With a renewed effort to escape the taunting eyes of the curious,
snickering crowd, he gathered the slim figure to him once more, when a
shout went up and, looking back, he saw that the gown he had hastily
loosened at the neck of the fair vision when he had first come upon the
scene, had slipped off and lay in a soft silken heap at his feet. He was
painfully aware that all that remained to view was the daintiest of filmy
lingerie, and sheer, silken hosiery. One tiny pump had fallen off.
The young man thought he would faint if he did not escape the crowd
that had rapidly grown to a curious mob. The sight of a very flushed
youth, holding the limp female figure in his awkward arms, scantily
clad, beautiful face impassive, instead of exciting sympathy, brought
forth only mirth at his clumsy attempts to withdraw. Evidently such an
experience had never occurred to the embarrassed youth before, but he
rallied and finally reached the door.
As he started through, carefully, almost tenderly holding the lovely
form, the delicate crepe de chine underslip caught on the little glass
doorknob; to his utter chagrin, he let go altogether, leaning against the
framework of the door; this was too much!
Wildly he thought of abandoning his duty, when the stern voice of a very
dapper, wax-mustached, and excited gentleman who forced his way through
the door, brought him up with a jerk.
“What ees the matter with you?” almost shrieked the head floorwalker of
“The Elite Modes” shop. “Look, look!” he cried, gesticulating wildly,
“worse than ze bull in ze china-closet! Go back to where you belong, and
stay there!”
The new window dresser of “The Elite Modes” gave one look at the broken
nose of the wax window-model which he had dropped, and fled—back to his
old love, the gingham department!
* * * * *
“It is forty years since my husband even kissed me,” complained a woman
in Hennepin county divorce court.
There is much pathos in that “even.”
* * * * *