Ade's Fables Part 18

She knew all the Songs that now blister the Varnish off the Pianos in so many well-ordered Homes.

She was enough of a Contortionist to get away with several Dances named for the innocent Poultry.

Being a close student of the Bill-Boards she was in touch with Current Happenings.

Her Eye-Work was perfect, but she found it hard pumping to Blush at the right time.

When she tackled Polite Conversation she put a few Tooth-Marks in it.

Still she made a very creditable Stab for a Girl brought up in Michigan and never east of Sheepshead Bay.

She looked very creamy to Bob, if the Music was loud enough.

He liked to tow something that would cause the Oyster Forks to pause in midair and the Catty Ones to reach for their Hardware.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He liked to tow something that would cause the Oyster Forks to pause in midair and the Catty Ones to reach for their Hardware]

When Elphye did a little Barnum and Bailey down the main Chute of a Terrapin Bazaar, rest a.s.sured that every Eye in the Resort was aimed at her gleaming Vertebrae.

Bob showed her his monthly Statements and she confessed to being very fond of him. So it was planned that they would Marry some afternoon, if she could get away from the Ma.s.seuse early enough.

The Troth was pledged in a few high-priced Trinkets which she had decided upon before he spoke to her.

Just when it seemed a mortal Pipe that the Bull Tactics would enable him to cop a Million, so that he could live at a Hotel and finance the Little Queen, the Unseen Superintendent in the Tower began to throw the Switches of Destiny.

If Bob had not speeded so far into the Country in the Smell-Wagon, there would have been no Flat Tire.

If there had been no Flat Tire, he would have been back in time for the usual round-up of the Irrigation Committee and never would have been a Great Financier.

Marooned among the Hay-Fields, he stopped at a Farm House and took a long chance on some Well-Water, dipped in a Gourd from the Moss-Covered Bucket.

Scotch Whiskey is never contaminated by Surface Drains, but each sparkling Drop of the Fluid that Bob quaffed, there beneath the Willows, contained more than 2,000,000 of the Germs made notorious by Dr. Woods Hutchinson.

A few days later a swarm of Bees settled in each ear. Every Sky-Sc.r.a.per gave an imitation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

He knew he was out of Kelter, but he had to watch the Board, for he had put every Bean in the World on an acrobatic Industrial known as Tin Bucket Preferred.

Already the Paper Profits were enormous. Bob figured confidently on another Whoop of 50 points and a double string of Pearls for Elphye.

But when the poor Loon had a Temperature of 5 above Par and had to cling to the Bra.s.s Rail to keep from taking the Count, he lost his Nerve entirely.

He couldn't see anything on the Horizon except Tariff Revision, Hard Times, Weeping Women, Starving Kiddies, Closed Factories, Soup Kitchens, and Bread Lines.

While in this dotty State and quite irresponsible, he directed the Manager to close out the whole Smear and sell short.

Furthermore, he was so daffy and curdled in the Filbert that he sold three times as much as he had.

Then he did a couple of Spins and a Flop, and the White Ambulance bore him away to the big Hospital.

If Mr. Hornung Jackson of Round Grove, Maryland, had not entered upon his Second Childhood at the age of 55, his Family would have remained on Easy Street.

Mr. Jackson thought he could sit in his Front Room and read the burglarious Meditations of the High-Binders in Wall Street.

Consequently, when the Tin Box was searched, the Day after the Masons had marched out to the Cemetery, it contained a little of everything except a.s.sets.

Annie was the name of the Daughter.

On the Clean-up she received enough to put her through the School.

When Bob arrived at the Hospital, in a State of Conflagration, Annie was waiting in the starched Uniform to tackle her first real Case.

For days and nights he rambled through the ghostly labyrinths of Delirium, Annie holding him by the Hand and lifting the cool Draughts to his parched Lips.

He mumbled and raved about the decisions of the Umpire in the game between the Academy and the Knitting Works.

He gave Annie his entire performance of Ralph Rackstraw in "Pinafore"

for the benefit of the Library Fund, including Cues.

He scolded his Aunt Mary for doing her own Housework and told the Colored Men how to lay the Cement Walk down through the Grape Arbor.

He promised his Father not to play Poker any more and vowed to his Mother that she was a better Chef than the one up at Del's.

But his sub-conscious Self was so considerate of Elphye that he never brought in her Name at all, at all.

Sometimes he would get back to the Ticker, but he was ready to leave it any time to go fishing in the Crick with the Lads from the other side of the Tracks.

Through the final Crisis he played tag with the Grim Reaper and just escaped being It.

The Sun was slanting into the little white Room when he crawled feebly back to Earth and tried to get his Bearings.

Annie was looking right at him, relieved and smiling and happy. She had won her first game in the Big League.

He noticed that she was not slashed up the side or down the back, had no metallic Insteps, carried her own Hair, and was in no way concealed behind the usual pallid Veneering.

He remembered dimly that she had been with him on the Underground.

Then he recalled a previous Existence in which the Dripped Absinthe was a Breakfast and the Cigarette a Luncheon and Elphye was trotting in her Glads and he had a Swell Bet down on Tin Bucket Preferred. The whole Lay-Out seemed unreal and remote and entirely disconnected with Friend Nurse.

He inquired the Day of the Week, and when he learned it was Next Month he started to get right up and put on his Things.

Annie quietly spread him back on the Pillow and laid down the Law regarding Rest and Quiet.

Then he begged her to ring up McCusick & Co. and get the latest Bucket Preferred.

He said he had plastered his last Samoleon and, not being there to watch the Board and concentrate his wonderful Trading Instinct on every jiggle of the Dial, there was no telling what the Bone-Heads had done to him.

You see, he had no recollection whatever of going Short, for he had been in a Walking Delirium at the time and crazy as a Cubist.

Annie said it was wrong to Gamble and he was not to read the Papers or fuss with Visitors until Doc gave the word.