front, waiting to meet you."
"Oh, is he?" says Mame, lettin' on not to care. "And yet when he was
livin' in one of our apartments he passed me every day without seein' me
at all."
"Oh, ho!" says I. "You took notice of him, though, did you?"
Miss Stribble pinks up at that. "Yes, I did," says she. "He struck me as
a reg'lar feller, one of the kind you could tie to. And when he'd almost
step over me without noticin'--well, I'll admit that sort of hurt. I
expect that's why I made up my mind to shake the mop and pail outfit and
break in some place where I could pick up a few tricks. After a few
stabs I landed here at the Maison. I remember I had on a saggy skirt and
a shirtwaist that must have looked like it had been improvised out of a
coffee sack. It's a wonder they let me past the door. But they did. For
the first six weeks, though, they kept me in the work rooms. Then I got
one of the girls to help me evenings on a black taffeta; I saved up
enough for two pairs of silk stockin's, blew myself to some pumps with
four inch heels, and begun carryin' a vanity box. It worked. Next thing
I knew they had me down on the main floor carryin' stock to the models
and now and then displayin' misses' styles to customers. I had a hunch
I was gettin' easier to look at, but you never can tell by the way women
size you up. All they see is the dress. And in the window there I had a
chance to see whether I was registerin' with the men. That's the whole
tragic tale."
"Leaving out Crosby Rhodes."
"That's so," admits Mame. "And it was some satisfaction, bringin' him to
life."
"You've done more'n that," says I. "He's one of these guys that wants
what he wants, and goes after it strong. Just now it seems to be you."
"How inter-estin'!" says Mame. "Tell me, what's his line?"
"Airplane timber," says I. "He's from out on the Coast."
"Oh!" says she. "From one of these little
straight-through-on-Main-street burgs, I suppose?"
"Headquarters in Seattle, I understand," says I. "That's hardly on the
Tom show circuit."
"Yes, I guess I've heard of the place," says Mame. "But what's his
proposition!"
"First off," says I, "Crosby wants to get acquainted. If he has any
hymen stuff up his sleeve, I expect you'd better hear that from him
personally. The question now is, do you want to meet him?"
"Oh, I dunno," says Mame careless. "I guess I'll take a chance."
"Then forget that vanishing act of yours," says I, "and I'll run him
in
|