Short stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
"I ran short last week," continued Louie. "That is, shorter than usual.
I hadn't the fifty cents to give to the woman. You ought to see her! A
little, gray-faced thing, with wisps of hair, and no chest to speak of,
and one of those mashed-looking black hats. Nobody could have the nerve
to ask her to wait for her money. So I did my own washing. I haven't
learned to wear soiled clothes yet. I laughed fit to bust while I was
doing it. But--I'll bet my mother dreamed of me that night. The way
they do, you know, when something's gone wrong."
Sophy, perched on the third rung of the sliding ladder, was gazing at
him. Her lips were parted slightly, and her cheeks were very pink. On
her face was a new, strange look, as of something half forgotten. It was
as though the spirit of Sophy-as-she-might-have-been were inhabiting her
soul for a brief moment. At Louie's next words the look was gone.
"Can't you sew something--a lace yoke--or whatever you call 'em--in that
dress?" he persisted.
"Aw, fade!" jeered Sophy. "When a girl's only got one dress it's got to
have some tong to it. Maybe this gown would cause a wave of indignation
in Oskaloosa, Iowa, but it don't even make a ripple on State Street. It
takes more than an aggravated Dutch neck to make a fellow look at a girl
these days. In a town like this a girl's got to make a showin' some way.
I'm my own stage manager. They look at my dress first, an' grin. See?
An' then they look at my face. I'm like the girl in the story. Muh face
is muh fortune. It's earned me many a square meal; an' lemme tell you,
Pink Cheeks, eatin' square meals is one of my favorite pastimes."
"Say looka here!" bellowed the boss, wrathfully. "Just cut out this here
Romeo and Juliet act, will you! That there ladder ain't for no balcony
scene, understand. Here you, Louie, you shinny up there and get down a
pair of them brown satin pumps, small size."
Sophy continued to wear the black dress. The V-cut neck seemed more
flaunting than ever.
It was two weeks later that Louie came in from lunch, his face radiant.
He was fifteen minutes late, but he listened to the boss's ravings with a
smile.
"You grin like somebody handed you a ten-case note," commented Sophy,
with a woman's curiosity. "I guess you must of met some rube from home
when you was out t' lunch."
"Better than that! Who do you think I bumped right into in the elevator
going down?"
"Well, Brothah Bones," mimicked Sophy, "who did you meet in the elevator
going down?"
"I met a man named Ames. He used to travel for a big Boston shoe house,
and he made our town every few months. We got to be good friends. I
took him home for Sunday dinner once, and he said it was the best dinner
he'd had in months. You know how tired those traveling men get of hotel
grub."
"Cut out the description and get down to action," snapped Sophy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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