_THE_ FABLE _OF_ WHY ESSIE'S TALL FRIEND GOT _THE_ FRESH AIR
The Owner of a Furnishing Store gave employment to a Boy with Dreamy
Eyes, who took good care of his Nails and used Scented Soap and carried
a Pocket Looking-Glass. It was his Delight to stand in the Doorway and
watch the Girls all Color Up when they caught Sight of him. He was said
to be a Divine Waltzer at these Balls that cost the Gents 50 cents each
and the Ladies get in free.
There was a Girl named Essie who was Hanging Around the Front of the
Store about half of the Time, waiting to get a Chance to Speak to Bert.
She Chewed Gum and kept her Sailor Hat pulled down to her Eyebrows and
had her Name worked out in Wire and used it as a Breastpin. After she
had waited an Hour or so, and he had Broken Away long enough to take her
aside, she would want to know what it was that Net had said about her,
or else she would ask why he had not Answered her Note. It was always
just about as Momentous as that.
If Essie did not come, she sent some one with a Message, and sometimes
other Floor Managers with Red Neckties and Forelocks would come in to
see about the Arrangements for the next Grand Hop by the Eucalyptus
Pleasure Club.
[Illustration: ESSIE]
Bert was so Engrossed with his Love Affairs and the Pleasure Club and
the Bundle of Correspondence that he carried with him that he had little
Time for Furnishing Goods. It used to Annoy him considerably when any
one came in and wanted to Spend Money. He would set out the Goods in a
Manner that showed it to be something of a Come-Down for him to be
compelled to Wait on Outsiders. While the Customer would be asking
Questions, Bert would be working the Flexible Neck to see if Essie was
still waiting for him. Sometimes when there was a Rush he would get real
Cross, and if People did not Buy in a Hurry he would slam the Boxes
around and be Lippy and give them the Eye. Yet he wondered why he did
not get a Raise in Salary.
During the Holiday Season, when the Eucalyptus Pleasure Club was simply
in a Delirium of All-Night Dances and Fried-Oyster Suppers, and when
Essie had worn a Path in the Snow coming down to tell Bert not to
Forget, the Proprietor decided that the Boy's Job was interfering with
his Gaiety. So when Bert came to get his Envelope the Furnisher told him
he needed more Outdoor Life and Exercise, and he had better find it by
moving around Town and looking for another Job.
MORAL: _Omit the Essie Proposition_.
_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ MICHIGAN COUNTERFEIT WHO WASN'T ONE THING _OR THE_
OTHER
Two Travelers sat in a Sleeping Car that was fixed up with Plush and
Curly-Cues until it resembled a Chambermaid's Dream of Paradise. They
were talking about the Man who sat across the Aisle.
"I think he is an Englishman," said the First Traveler.
"Why do you think so?" queried his Companion.
"Well, in the first place his Clothes don't fit him," replied the First
Traveler. "I observe, also, that he has piled all his Luggage on Another
Man's Seat, that he has opened several Windows without asking
Permission, that he has expected the Porter to pay Attention to him and
nobody else, and that he has Kicked at something every Thirty Seconds
since we left Buffalo."
"You make out a Strong Case," said the Second Traveler, nodding. "I will
admit that the Suit is Fierce. Still, I maintain that he is not an
Englishman. I notice that he seems somewhat Ashamed of his Clothes. Now,
if he were an Englishman, he would Glory in the Misfit."
"Perhaps he is a Canadian," suggested the First Traveler.
"Impossible," said the other. "He may be English, but he is not
sufficiently British to be a Canadian. If he were a Canadian he would
now be singing 'Britannia Rules the Wave!' No, I insist that he is an
American traveling Incog. I suspect that I have Caught him with the
Goods. While sitting here, I have had my Sherlock Holmes System at work.
A few Moments ago he read a Joke in a Comic Paper, and the Light of
Appreciation kindled in his Eye before a full Minute had elapsed."
[Illustration: PULLMAN CAR]
"Perhaps it was not a Comic Paper at all," said the First Traveler. "It
may have been Punch. Very often an Englishman will Get Next almost
immediately if the Explanation is put in Parenthesis. You have to Hand
it to him with a Diagram and a Map and then give him a little Time, and
then he Drops. This man is certainly an Englishman. Notice the
Expression of Disapproval. He does not fancy our Farm Scenery. Get onto
the Shoes, too. They are shaped like Muffins. Then if you are still in
Doubt, pay attention to the Accent. Didn't you hear him just now when he
was complaining to the Porter because the Sun was on the wrong side of
the Car?"
"Yes, but did you hear him use 'Cahn't' and 'Glass' both in the same
Sentence? When a Man Plays it Both Ways, it is a Sign that he was born
in Wisconsin and attended Harvard. I am convinced that he is not an
Englishman at all. He is probably an American who takes a Bahth in a
Bath-Tub."
But the First Traveler persisted that surely the Man across the aisle
was an Englishman, so they Jawed back and forth and finally made a Bet.
Then the First Traveler stepped over and begged the Stranger's Pardon
and asked him, as a personal favor, to Identify himself. Was he an
Englishman or an American?
"Really, that is a Hard Question to answer," said the Surprised
Stranger. "I confess with some Mortification that Father was an
American, but he wore Detachable Cuffs and talked about Live Stock at
the Table, so the Heirs are trying to Forget him. As nearly as we can
learn, one of my Ancestors came to this Country from Yorkshire early in
the Eighteenth Century and founded a Tannery in Massachusetts, so I feel
that I can claim an English Birthright, regardless of the intervening
Ancestors. My Claim is strengthened by the Fact that our Family has a
Regular Coat-of-Arms. Everybody had forgotten about it for over Seven
Hundred Years until Sister and I hired a Man to find it. Sister is now
Lady Frost-Simpson and lives on the Other Side. When she discovered his
Lordship he was down to his last Dickey. She took him out of Hock, and
he is so Grateful that sometimes he lets me come and Visit them. I have
seen the Prince."
[Illustration: ANCESTOR]
"Then you are an Englishman?" queried the Traveler who had Bet that way.
"It is not admitted in London," was the sorrowful Reply. "Sometimes if
Frost-Simpson has to come Home for Money while I am visiting Sister, he
puts me up at the Clubs and all the Chaps seem to think I am an
American. I try to be exactly like them, but I fail. They say I have an
Accent, although I have been working all my Life to overcome it. I have
not used the word 'Guess' for many Years."
"Yours is a Sad Case," remarked the Second Traveler. "Why do you ever
come back?"
"To collect my Income," was the Reply. "Isn't it a Bore? Rents and all
that sort of Rot, you know."
"But you have not settled the Bet," said one of the Persistent
Travelers. "Are you a Yankee?"
"I have never Admitted it, and I cannot do so now," said the
Brother-in-Law of Lord Frost-Simpson. "At the same time, it is on Record
that I was born at Pontiac, Michigan. Of course, you know What I am
Striving to be. But there must be a Handicap somewhere. During the Two
Hundred Years in which my Ancestors temporarily resided in the States,
they must have absorbed some of the Characteristics of this Uncouth and
Vulgar People, and as a Result the Sins of the Father are visited upon
the Child even to the third and fourth Generations, and I cannot hold a
Monocle in my Eye to save my Life. I live Abroad, and strive to Forget,
and work hard to be just like the other Fellows, but I do not seem to
Arrive. Even in this Beastly Country, where the Imitation Article
usually passes current as the Real Thing, there seems to be some Doubt
as to my Case, seeing that you two Persons have made this Bet.
Concerning the Bet, I fear that I am unable to Decide it. I do not know
What I am."
"I know What you are," said the First Traveler, "but I do not dare to
tell you right here in the Car, because the Pullman Company has a Rule
against the use of such Language."
So they declared the Bet off and went forward and sat in the Day Coach.
MORAL: _Be Something_.
_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ ADULT GIRL WHO GOT BUSY BEFORE THEY COULD RING
_THE_ BELL _ON_ HER
Once upon a Time there was a Lovely and Deserving Girl named Clara, who
was getting so near Thirty that she didn't want to Talk about it.
Everybody had a Good Word for her. She traveled with the Thoroughbreds,
and was always Among Those Present; so it was hard to understand why she
hadn't Married. Other Girls not as Good-Looking or Accomplished had been
grabbed off while they were Buds. Already some of them were beginning to
act as Chaperons for Clara. They were keeping Tab on Clara's Age, too,
and began to think that she would land on the Bargain Counter, and have
to be satisfied with a Widower who wore a Toupee and dyed his Eyebrows.
Clara was somewhat of a Mind-Reader. She knew that the Friends of her
Youth were predicting a Hard Finish for her, so she decided to Fool
them. And she knew that it Behooved her to Catch On before the Children
started in to call her Auntie.
Now it is not to be inferred that Clara was what the Underwriters call a
Bad Risk. She never had been a Drug on the Market. When she went to a
Hop she did not have to wait for Ladies' Choice in order to swing into
the Mazy. In fact, she had been Engaged now and then, just for Practice,
and she had received Offers from some of the holdover Bachelors who went
around Proposing from Force of Habit. But Clara was not out for any man
who had been Turned Down elsewhere. She wanted the Right Kind, and she
was going to do the Picking herself.
Having made an Inventory of the Possibilities, she selected the
Treasurer of the Shoe Factory, and decided that she could Love him
without Straining herself. He was about her age, and was almost as
good-looking as a Gibson Man, and had A1 Prospects. It would be no Easy
Job to Land him, however, because the Competition was very keen and he
was Wary, trying to be a Kind Friend to every Girl he knew, but playing
no Favorites. He kept the Parents guessing. He had been Exposed to
Matrimony so often without being Taken Down, that he was generally
regarded as an Immune.
Clara got Busy with herself and hatched a Scheme. When all the Smart Set
got ready to pike away for the Heated Term, Clara surprised her Friends
by guessing that she would remain at Home. It was a Nervy Thing to do,
because all the Social Head-Liners who could command the Price were
supposed to flit off to a Summer Hotel, and loiter on the Pine Veranda
and try to think they were Recuperating.
Clara told her Mother to go, as usual, but she would stay at Home and be
a Companion to poor lonesome Papa. So all the Women went away to the
Resorts with their Cameras and Talcum Powder and Witch Hazel, and Clara
was left alone in Town with the Men.
[Illustration: CLARA]
It is a Traditional Fact that there is no Social Life in Town during the
Dog Days. But there is nothing to prevent a Bright Girl from Starting
Something. That is what Clara did.
She stocked up the Refrigerator, and hung a Hammock on the Lawn with a
few Easy Chairs around it. The Young Men marooned in Town heard of the
Good Thing, and no one had to tear their Garments to induce them to
come. They arrived at the rate of from Seven to Twelve a Night, and
dipped into Papa's Cigars and the Liquid Nourishment, regardless.
Although Clara had remained in town to act as Companion to Papa, it was
noticed that when she had all the Company in the Evening, Papa either
had been Chloroformed and put to Bed or else he had his Orders to stay
Under Cover.
Clara did not send for the Treasurer of the Shoe Factory. She knew
better than to go out after her Prey. She allowed him to find his Way to
the House with the others. When he came, she did not chide him for
failing to make his Party Call; neither did she rush toward him with a
Low Cry of Joy, thereby tipping her Hand. She knew that the Treasurer of
the Shoe Factory was Next to all these Boarding School Tactics, and
could not be Handled by the Methods that go with the College Students.
Clara had enjoyed about ten years' Experience in handling the Creatures,
and she had learned to Labor and to Wait. She simply led him into the
Circle and took his Order, and allowed him to sit there in the Gloaming
and observe how Popular she was. All the men were Scrapping to see who
would be Next to sit in the Hammock with her. It looked for a while as
if Clara would have to give out Checks, the same as in a Barber Shop.
Late that night when the Men walked homeward together, they remarked
that Clara was a Miserable Hostess, they didn't think.
Next Evening the Treasurer of the Shoe Factory was back on the Lawn. So
were all the Others. They said there was no beating a Place where you
could play Shirt-Waist Man under the Trees, and have a Fairy Queen in
White come and push Cold Drinks at you and not have to sign any Ticket.
They composed flattering Songs about Clara, and every time she moved
there was a Man right there with a Sofa Cushion to help her to be
Comfortable.
[Illustration: HIGH-SCHOOL CADET]
In the mean time, the Other Girls out at the Summer Resorts were doing
the best they could with these High School Cadets, wearing Tidies around
their Hats, who would rather go out in a Cat-Boat and get their arms
tanned than remain on Shore and win the Honest Love of an American Girl,
with a String to it.
Clara's work about this time was ever so Glossy. She began by asking the
Treasurer of the Shoe Factory to come with her to the Refrigerator to
get out some more Imported Ginger Ale. All the men Volunteered to help,
and two or three wanted to Tag along, but Clara drove them back.
They were gone a Long Time, because the Treasurer had to draw all the
Corks, and they Fussed around together in the Pantry fixing up a Lunch
for the Boys. Clara told him how Strong and Handy he was, until he felt
an increase in his Chest Measurement.
On successive evenings she had the Treasurer supervise all the
Arrangements. The Hired Girl had every Evening off, because it was so
much more Jolly to go out and run the place yourself. In less than a
Week the Treasurer was giving Orders around the House. She would get him
back to the Kitchen and tie an Apron around him and ask what she should
do next. She made him out to be the Only One who could be Trusted. The
others were Company, but he was like one of the Family. And although he
was being Worked like Creamery Butter, he never Suspected.
Her Game was to Domesticate him in Advance, and let him have a Foretaste
of what it is to be Boss of your own House, except as to the Bills. The
Pantry was full of Home Delicacies such as he couldn't get at the Hotel,
and the Service was the best ever. Clara was right at his Elbow with a
Willing Smile.
It didn't take him long to realize that he was missing a lot by
remaining Single. He wondered why he had been so slow in getting on to
Clara's Good Points. Also he wondered if it was any Open-and-Shut
Certainty when a dozen other Men, some of them Younger and more Gallus,
were after her in Full Cry.
Clara had him Pulled In, Strung and Hung over the side of the Boat.
Of course if all the other Girls had been in Town, they would have
Tumbled long before it ran into a Certainty, and probably they would
have formed a V and rushed in to break up the Play. But the other Girls
were Far Away with the Old Men and the Seminary Striplings. Clara had an
Open Field, with no need of any Interfering or Blocking, and if she Fell
Down it was her own Fault. Besides, she had all these other Admirers set
out as Decoys to prove that if he didn't, somebody else might.
The Treasurer of the Shoe Factory got a large Rally on himself, and she
had to Give In and make a Promise.
He loves to tell Callers how he proposed to his Wife in the Kitchen, and
he doesn't know to this Day that she was Expecting it.
MORAL: _As soon as he begins to Frequent the Back Rooms of the House,
measure him for the Harness_.
_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ MAN-GRABBER WHO WENT OUT _OF_ HIS CLASS
While standing in front of his Store, between two Dummies in Seersucker
Suits, one of the Chosen People spotted a Good Thing that resembled a
Three-Sheet of the Old Homestead. It was looking up at the Top Stories
and bumping against Hydrants and Unsurpassed Coffee Bulletins. The flip
Yahooda, with the City Education and Thirty Centuries of Commercial
Training to back him up, saw that here was a Chance to work off some Old
Stock. So when the mild old Gentleman with the strawcolored Sluggers and
the Freckles on his Wrists came near enough, he Closed with him and told
him to come inside and look at a New Style called the McKinley Overcoat
because the President had one just like it.
Uncle Eck replied that he did not really need an Overcoat, as he had
traded for one only a few Seasons before, but he was willing to go in
and Look Around, and if he did not buy anything he reckoned there
wouldn't be any Hard Feelings. Accordingly he walked straight into the
Trap and permitted Mr. Zangwill to show him an Assortment of Shoddy
Garments fastened together with Mucilage. The Crafty Merchant came down
from $38 to $6.50, and showed him a Confidential Letter from his Cousin
Sig to prove that the Goods had been Smuggled in, but old Peaceful
Valley refused to Bite. He allowed the Proprietor to talk himself out,
and then he walked up and down the Counters, careless-like, to see what
was on the Shelves, and he did some quiet Figuring in a Memorandum Book
such as they give away at Drug Stores. Before he left he had Traded 20
Acres of flinty Hillside in New Hampshire for the Clothing Store, the
Mortgage on the Land to be Assumed by the New Owner, and he had $75 to
Boot and an Agreement in Writing.
[Illustration: THE TRAPPER]
The Hauler-In is now Clerking and trying to Hold Out enough to give him
another Start.
MORAL: _Lower Broadway is not New England_.
_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ INVETERATE JOKER WHO REMAINED _IN_ MONTANA
The Subject of this Fable started out in Life as a Town Cut-Up. He had a
keen Appreciation of Fun, and was always playing Jokes. If he wanted a
few Gum-Drops he would go into the Candy Store and get them, and then
ask the Man if he was willing to take Stamps. If the Man said he was,
then the Boy would stamp a couple of times, which meant that the Laugh
was on the Man. It was considered a Great Sell in Those Parts.
Or else he would go into a Grocery with another tricky Tad and get some
Article of Value, and they would pretend to Quarrel as to which should
Pay for it. One would ask the Proprietor if he cared who paid for it,
and if he said he did not, they would up and tell him to Pay for it
Himself. This one was so Cute that they had a little Piece in the Paper
about it.
Or they would go and Purchase a Watermelon to be paid for as soon as a
Bet was decided, and afterward it would Develop that the Bet was whether
the Saw-Mill would fall to the East or the West, in case the Wind blew
it over.
It was Common Talk that the Boy was Sharp as a Tack and Keen as a Brier
and a Natural-Born Humorist.
Once he sold a Calf to the Butcher, several Hours after the Calf had
been struck by Lightning. As for ordering Goods and having them charged
to his Father, that was one of the Slickest Things he ever did.
About the time the Joker was old enough to leave Home, he traveled out
through the Country selling Bulgarian Oats to the Farmers. When the
Contract for the Seed Oats got around to the Bank, it proved to be an
iron-clad and double-riveted Promissory Note. The Farmer always tried to
get out of Paying it, but when the Case came to Trial and the Jurors
heard how the Agent palavered the Hay-Seed they had to Snicker right out
in Court. They always gave Judgment for the Practical Joker, who would
take them out and buy Cigars for them, and they would hit him on the
Back and tell him he was a Case.
One Day the Joker had an Inspiration, and he had to tell it to a Friend,
who also was something of a Wag.
They bought a Cat-Tail Swamp remote from Civilization and divided it
into Building Lots. The Marsh was Advertised as a Manufacturing Suburb,
and they had side-splitting Circulars showing the Opera House, the Drill
Factory, Public Library, and the Congregational Church. Lots were sold
on the Instalment Plan to Widows, Cash-Boys, and Shirt-Factory Girls who
wanted to get Rich in from fifteen to twenty Minutes.
The Joker had a Lump of Bills in every Pocket. If asked how he made his
Roll, he would start to Tell, and then he would Choke Up, he was so full
of Laugh. He certainly had a Sunny Disposition.
[Illustration: MANUFACTURING SUBURB]
Finally he went to the State of Montana. He believed he could have a
Season of Merriment by depositing some Valuable Ore in a Deserted Mine,
and then selling the Mine to Eastern Speculators. While he was Salting
the Mine, pausing once in a while to Control his Mirth, a few Natives
came along, and were Interested. They were a slow and uncouth Lot, with
an atrophied Sense of Humor, and the Prank did not Appeal to them. They
asked the Joker to Explain, and before he could make it Clear to them or
consult his Attorney they had him Suspended from a Derrick. He did not
Hang straight enough to suit, so they brought a Keg of Nails and tied to
his Feet, and then stood off and Shot at the Buttons on the Back of his
Coat.
MORAL: _Don't Carry a Joke too far, and never Carry it into Montana_.
_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ CRUEL INSULT _AND THE_ ARRIVAL _OF THE_ LOVER FROM
NO. 6
One Morning there came into the Dining Room of the Peerless Hotel at
Welby's Junction an English Tourist and the Advance Agent of the Mabel
Mooney Repertoire Company.
They took their Places at the Table underneath a Chromo representing a
Pyramid of Idealized Fruit. The Table was covered with Sail Cloth, and
in the Center was the Corroded Caster, which gave out a Sound similar to
that of the Galloping Horse in the War Drama whenever any one walked
across the Floor.
The English Traveler appeared to have received Bad News from Home, but
he had not. That was the Normal Expression. His Mustache was long and
wilted. Also the Weary Look around the Eyes. He traveled with a Cowhide
Bag that must have used up at least one Cow. The Clothes he wore
evidently had been cut from a Steamer Rug by his Mother, or some other
Aged Relative suffering from Astigmatism. He had been Sleeping in them.
As for the Second Traveler, he was an Advance Agent.
"Cheer Up," said the Advance Agent to the English Tourist. "It may not
be True, and if it is True it may be for the Best."
The English Tourist made no Response, fearing that his Fellow-Traveler
might be In Trade.
[Illustration: TOURIST]
Then the One that waited on the Table did the Glide from behind a
Screen.
She was very Pale, up to a certain Point.
Pausing about six feet from the English Tourist she looked resolutely at
a Knot-Hole in the Floor and said:
"Beefsteakliverhamand."
"My Good Woman," said the Man from Stoke-on-Tritham, just as if he meant
to Prorogue something. "I should like a Rasher of Bacon, and have it
Jolly Well Done."
"Ain't got no Bacon," she replied, feeling of her Brooch.
"Dyuh-me! Then I should like some Boiled Eggs, and mind that they are
Fresh."
"I'll give you Regular Aigs," she said, lifting her Head proudly, for
she was no Serf.
"Approach me, Kit," said the Advance Agent, with gentle Voice.
"Is tha-a-at so-o-o?" she asked. "I'll have you know, Smarty, my name
ain't Kit. So There!"
"Well, make it Genevieve," said the Advance Agent. "Come close and hold
my Hand while I give you this Order. And merely as one Friend speaking
to another, I want to tell you that the Blending under the Left Ear is
very poor, and if you are not careful somebody will Sign you as a
Spotted Girl."
"My Mother was a Lady," she said.
"That being the Case, I would like to have you go out and Engage a nice
piece of Liver for me. And if you show yourself to be real Winsome and
Chic I may be able to use you with the Troupe."
"Tea or Coffee?"
"Don't tell me which one you bring and see if I can Guess. And I would
like some Actual Potatoes."
"I suppose, Sir, you think I have no Feelings."
"That is none of my Business," he replied. "I am merely passing through
your Beautiful Little City."
"I wish Edmund was here," said she.
"So do I," assented the Advance Agent, promptly. "If he can wait on the
Table I wish he was here. Now see if you can make the Kitchen in two
Jumps."
[Illustration: ADVANCE AGENT]
"He'd show you if you could get Flossy with a Lady, even though she
Works."
"You are about to lose your Tip, standing around here trying to shoot it
back at the Handsome Guest," remarked the Advance Agent. "Has Edmund
about finished his Fall Plowing?"
"He don't do no Fall Plowing," was the Bitter Reply. "He Fires on Number
Six."
At that Moment there entered a Railroad Boy with Braid on his Clothes
and Coal-Dust on his Neck. He removed the Cap that had rested on his
flanging Ears and sat at the Table with the Advance Agent and the
English Tourist.
"Feed me Everything, with One in the Light to come along," he said. "If
any of the Cockroaches ask for me, tell them I'm for all Night with the
Yellow Rattlers, and laid out at Winona."
The English Tourist was holding his Head.
"I guess you won't carry on so Gay since he's come," said the Sensitive
Waitress, addressing the Advance Agent.
"Did he Call you Down?" asked Edmund, the Loving Fireman, glancing at
the Advance Agent.
"He used me like I was the Dirt under his Feet," she replied, placing
her Hand on her Breast and biting her Lower Lip.
"Well, it's a Good Thing," said Edmund. "You've needed a few of them
Jolts ever since you had your Hand read by the Gypsy and started to read
that Bertha Clay Book. It's a good thing to have a Strong Josher come
along now and then, just to show you Proud Dolls how to take a Joke. Do
I Eat?"
The Sensitive Waitress hurried Away, feeling hurt.
"Overlook all the Phoney Acting by the Little Lady, Bud," said the
Fireman to the Advance Agent. "She's only twenty-seven."
Producing a small Note-Book, the English Traveler said: "Gentlemen, I
regard this Incident as Most Extraordinary and somewhat Mystifying. I
fear that I am not sufficiently acquainted with your Vernacular to grasp
the full Purport of what has occurred here. Will you Explain it to me?"
[Illustration: WORKING GIRL]
"Did you notice the Ingenue that guaranteed you the Regular Eggs," asked
the Advance Agent.
"You mean the Young Woman who was here a moment ago?"
"That's the Party! You saw her?"
"Certainly."
"Now, I'll tell you all about it, if you promise not to put it in your
Book."
"Really, you know, I had intended to Use it," said the Traveler.
"All right, then; put it in, but don't use any Names. This is Under the
Rose, remember. The Proud Working Girl that was in here just now is my
Sister."
And the Englishman was deeply Perplexed.