Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 236, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 October 1910 — This Courting Business [ARTICLE]

This Courting Business

By JEANNE OLIVE LOIZEAUX

It was a minute or two past the noon hour, but Caroline made a last ®atry In the daybook. Maude and Laura were already patting their hair Into shape, surreptitiously powdering their faces and nervously making ready to go to lunch. They were both under twenty, of the fluffy, big-eyed, quick-fading type. Caroline was older —perhaps twentyfive—calm, steady-eyed, with smooth hair and a tailored business v look, though her salary was little more than theirs. She closed her book, and as the door shut on the boss she looked steadily at their rather fagged faces— the heat and the work were telling on them. She herself was bright-eyed and cheeked, ready for anything. “The , heat is fierce," complained Maude crossly. “It makes everybody mean. I feel like a scratchy cat, and the boss is like a bear. I’m sure only respect for himself—not for me—kept him from swearing when I couldn’t read my notes this morning.” Laura nodded and pinned on her extravagant headgear. “Did you get to sleep last night at allT I didn’t until morning—it is really too warm to dance—and Harry mn.de me mad taking me home —I "wouldn’t waste time on him, only he gives a girl such a good time—and I got to go somewhere.” Caroline broke in impatiently. “What ails you two girls is not h e kt it’s this courting The kind that never lands you anywhere, and tires you all out for your work. You ve no business to dance all night and be practically asleep the next day. The boss is supposedly paying for your waking hours—not your sleeping ones. Honestly, you" can’t afford not to be studying a bit on your work. I’m not one to howl, but in this dull season, and so many good stenographers wanting summer work, it wouldn’t take much for you to get yourselves discharged. I don’t suppose you’ll adore me for telling you this, but it’s so.” The girls tried to look scornful, but the older girl had been a friend in time of need —she had gotten them both into her office, and had even paid for their lunches their first week. They were a trifle sulky. But they could not deny that she was prettier than they, if a little older, and much their superior in the office —and everywhere. “We’ve got to have some fun,” contended Laura. The three started together for the door, and the older girl replied: “I know that, and I want you to have it, but you’ve got the wrong idea of fun. Danqing’s all right opce in a while, and in the right place. But these dance halls, and with such a sport as Harry Hall. That’s only foolhardiness, kids. You’ll be sorry. You may be all right, but people are going to judge you by the company you keep. To be flat,” she finished as they got out of the elevator and went along the street, “would you want to marry any of the men you danced with last night?” The two did not answer. “You’re pretty and young, and they aro having a good time with you. You’re giving them your freshness, and just being Been with them queers you with better men. How about Bob, Maudie?” Maude’s dark eyes filled with sudden tears. She had not seen him for a month. He was a boy from home, good, clean, with' a promising business start. She knew that he had almost declared his love for her. Then, without warning, he had ceased to come near her. Caroline steered them past their usual place of eating to a quiet dairy lunchroom. “I’m going to boss you for a few weeks,” she laughed brightly. "The lunch is on me today—if you let me order. Dancing all night, and sodas and cake for lunch, and dinner little better, won’t do.” She got a little aide table and skillfully ordered some cold meat, a salad, a good sweet and milk. It was good. ,She guided the talk to impersonal matters, glad to Bee the sulkiness pass from Laura’s face and the sadness from Maude’s. While they were eating Bob Hardy came in. He would have passed them with a wistful but firm little nod, but. Caroline’s eye held him. She beckoned to him. He came gladly enough, for he had always liked her and had been sorry when Maude escaped from her care. He stood beside them. “Are you busy all the time?” she asked. “Because if you are not I want you to come for a little picnlo with us and some others Thursday after office hours. You can bring Borne fruit and come to gay office at five.” The slim, fair young fejjow, after a moment's silent hunt for an excuse, decided to accept. He would have preferred keeping away from Maudie. He could not forget > how Bweet she used to be, and hated to remember that her pretty hair was padded into grotesqueness, her hat h monstrosity and that she would let a Harry Hall take her to a cheap dance. But he promised to come. It was queer, but neither of the girls had opened her mouth to tell Caroline that Thursday Vas the night 'ej another dance, and they hkd ex-

pected to go—in their own phrase. If she knew it Caroline did not betray the fact. She went on planning. In the afternoon the girls braced up to their work and yent home promising to go to bed at eight, and be on time at the office next morning. The next evening Caroline invited herself to go home with them and help them fix some thjggs to wear to the picnic next day. Quite casually, she had asked Mr. Roberts, head clerk in their office, to be of the party. He had seemed glad to go, and took a quick glance at Laura. He had always wanted to know if there was a real girl beneath the little person who came to the office in party finery. There was something sweet and genuine about her despite it. & In the little stuffy room the kindly Carpline coaxed and praised and ca- 1 Joled the girls until they had let her open their trunks. She found a little light summer dress for each, simple, and laid away as not stylish enough. With her quick wits and quick needle, a bit of lace or ribbon, she began altering a little to the admiration of the others. She tried on one dress, and then the other. The two could not deny the godd effect. “You’re a darling, Caro,” said Laura. “We would not have thought this old junk could be fixed up, and we wouldn’t have worn it for anybody but you! We’re yous slaves for this occasion. What else do you want?” The next afternoon at half-past four, three cool, clean, dainty girls with baskets waited at the office for three tired, hot men whose eyes rested gladly upon them. They took a car to some picnic grounds little frequented, and found a grassy space beneath some great trees. It was after six when they reached there, and the hungry little company began to get supper. Caroline had told each what to bring, and did the planning herself. She had one man get water, another make a fire. Then she produced coffee in a tin pail, a steak and a frying pan and potato\s boiled and ready to fry. Maude, in her element, remembered her early training in her mother’s kitchen, and fell to work. Her sleeves were turned back to the shoulder showing her pretty arms. Her soft, thick hair, untutored, jmratted, was drawn softly to the back of her round little head. The fire brought the red to her cheek. She cooked the steak to a turn, and with far greater zest than she made pothooks in the office. And Laura set the table. She could not cook, but in her simple white dress, with her curling hair piled on the top of her graceful head, her dress turned up about her slender figure, the artificiality fell from her. She forgot to simper and pose. She felt herself genuine and charming—-and was so. The little supper was a joy—both as food and as to comradeship. The third man, an old friend of Caroline’s, John Foster, a sort of quiet mainstay, a big, manly chap, seemed quietly to dominate the group. The younger girls had not known him. After supper the men had permission to smoke, and as they sat and the girls sang, Foster moved over to Caroline’s side. As twilight began to fall a little silence came upon the & group. The girls rose, and the men followed. Then without warning John Foster topk Caroline by the hand, and she looked up at him with a smile and nodded. “We —Caroline and I—are going to be married next week, people," he said. “Won’t that be great? We’re going to have a home out on Sixth, and we want you to come and see* us. Will you—all of you? And Caroline has it planned to ask -you girls to room in our house. Will you?” Maude and Laura rußhed over to kiss the bride to be, declaring that they would, of course. But the other men said nothing—then. On the way home Bob had Maude off to himself, and got off the car with her before the right destination. He wanted to talk with her. She was very quiet and meek and sweet. Going around the corner of the crowded street the music from the dance hall came to her ears. She shivered and drew closer to her boyhood friend. She was thinking of Harry Hall. Bob put his hand to hers. “Maudie,” he said# “before I tell you I love you—and ask you to marry me—l must ask you to forgive me. I thought the city had spoiled you and that you liked —” She would not let him finish. “You shan't ask me to forgive what I deserved, Bobbie. I love you, too." Laura was walking demurely home beside the head clerk. She somehow felt very protected, very sweet and unboiled. Something in his manner to her told her that some day he would—even In her thought she did not quite finish. They passed a weary-Weed middleaged woman, who looked at them with a little smile.- And she murmured in ' passing, “Ah, this courting business!” But it was a wistful murmur. Woman’s present hobby seetns to be a hobble. «