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Show V cc: i les Do me tiling iuoose body says a word except to befr the agent to let 'em pay 190 a month or so tor five rooni3 and bath. I can feel Yee Rive a shudder as we dives into the tunnel. "But, really," says she. "I suppose it must be very nice, only half a block from the drive, and with such an imposing im-posing entrance." "Sure!" says I. "Just as cozv as being tucked away in a safety deoosit vault every night. That's what makes some of these New Yorkers so patronizln' and haughty when they happen to strav out to wiy stations and crossroad joints where the roor liubes live exnnsed rnn-tinuauy rnn-tinuauy io sunsnmo ami Iresh air and don't seem to know anv better " "JUSl imnk!" Savs Vee. "I.lirv T.ee'o home (loivii in lrglnla was one of those deiigntnu urn colonial houses set on a hiu. wuu more man a nunarod acres of faun land aiounu u. Aim uantain l-::nke hiusl nave neon nsea to an outuoor lif He s a civil emrmeer. i believe. Bur then with tne honeymoon barely over. I sun-pose sun-pose uiev flnn t mind." e iiusiii hsk em. ' I suercrests. Don i you nare. lorcnv: ' saws she. By that time, though, we're readv to Interview ue mzzv-naireri west imiian brunette in chartte oi tne phono riesk in one comer oi tne marlMe wainscnted lobby. And when he sets through oivin' the not cometiacK to some tenant who has dared to protest that he's had the mill n,ini,nn II I urn in mi ii 1 1 up In. Finally he grunts something through tile gum and waves us toward tho elevator. ele-vator. "Fourth." nays he. And a slouchy young female in a dirty khaki uniform takes us up. jerky, to turn us loose in a hallwav with a dozen doors openin' off. There's such a dim light we could hardly read the cards in the door plates, and we was pawln' around, dazed, when a husky bleached blonde comes salllll' I out of an apartment. 1 "Will vou please tell m which Is the Elakes' bell?" asks Yee. "Wakes?" says tho blonde. "Don't know 'em." " i-'ernaus were on tne wrong fioor, I suggests. tint about then a door opens and out i peers J.ucv J-.00 nerseu. ' wny, men; ! vou are!" savs she. "We were just 1 picking up a little. You know now : things get in an apartment, .'so gooa oi I vou to mint us up. t oine rigiu in. ro we sotieezes m between a laucy uau seat and the kitchen door, cages down ti uuve-iont iiallwav. and discovers ..apiani Blake just strugglln' into his coat, at tne same time kickln' some evemn papers, uexterous. under a aavenpon. "u iw. how comiv you are nere, aren t your' savs vee. gazin' around. "e-e-es. aren t we.' ' savs .Lucy Lee. a bit dmse-v. ii you ve ever maae one oi tnese fiat-nouse fiat-nouse nrst cans vou can fin in tne iet (f . ' t p -C S 'well velW 33c,3 " j: ' f s i 'ffott cUeredtn, ' 3u4 vko '&Zsy J" Porter uiymy?" Inst what Iiwa3 V was 1 s- 1 forff, for In the drawer of her Nrn"1;1" Might have been last fTi'll-a miik bill or a stray hair net. or tont - i and enocifications for buildin' fr p,ai lavw cake with only two ega. i? . ri'ht I" the middle of the hunt "Si loose with the staccato stuff,; tin' surorise, remorse, sudden grief, irlier emotions. , or'did you grab a hatpin by the N5LrMpe"avs she. "Look what I ran : o Torcliy." And she flips an en-'cr.H en-'cr.H f.ard Rt me. it on the fly. reads the neat ' V nn it. and then hunches my ''Well, well!" says I. -At s, (toaer- 15 30i) Vost Hundred 10T T-motv Umpt street. How inter- -r But who is this Mr. and Mrs. Siton Porter Biake. anyway?" .Vh- don't yeu remember? says ee. ... Vein them that darling urn-shaped a4v" iar. That is Lucy Lee and her ,e-oiCiitP-ennshe got him. did she?" says . -V k'iew he was a goner when she ,., ift'er him so strong. And now I "thev're livin' happy ever after.?" rVv'ie vou don't remember my tellln : 'about' Lucy Lee, the Virginia butter-to butter-to we took in over the week-end once. hoW i had to scratch around one SVdav to find some male egg from he bond room, one of these buddin' John I' wiio keeps an expense account and hid -es everv time he passes a millinery tV oV thinks what two orchestra seats d a double taxi fare would set him a-k nd, the female beincr more ex-"ive ex-"ive of ' the species, he has ' trained lii:e'f to be girl-proof. That's what he 5 on to m? beforehand, but inside of w-v-eielit minuies by the watch, or be-reen be-reen his f'-r.st spoonful of tomato soup no his last sip of cafe noir. this Lucy e partv had him so dizzy in the head didn't know whether lie was gazin' ito her lovely eves or being run down w a truck. Honest, some of these babi-s babi-s with high voltage lamps- like that to be made- to use dimmers'. For Just as she's got him ail wound . ,'n t'ne not, what does Lucy Lee do it flit sudden off to the Berkshires, here a noble young S. O. S. captain is 'ju come back from the war, and K nest we know they're engaged, while i the bond room of the Corrugated (;t is one more broken heart, or what tsses for the same among them young And no" here is Lucy Lee, flaggin j your.g Mrs. Blake, livin' right in the - jr'e town with him. "How stupid of me to forget!" says ee. ""e must run, in and call on them Ifiit away, Torchy." 'We?" says I. "Ah, come!" ''"TVe'l! have dinner first at that cute '-tie Cafe Bret one you've been telling e about." says Vee. "and go up to see Blades afterwards." Y that was the pro era m we followed, "si without the aid of a guide we lo-: lo-: M this Urnpty L'mpt street. The " tm!jr is about half way down the Mock f at nns from upper Broadwav to Ji!ver- )e Drive. It's one of the narrow .-re?:?, you know, and he scenery is ':: ft a? cheerful as a section of the Hud- - n ri-?r tube on a fosgy night. Noth-5 Noth-5 hut seven-stor- apartment buildings v:"' either side! human hive, where the iy thing that can be raised is the rent, --ii:h the landlord attends to every quar-:; quar-:; t. ' H:ivirtr lived out. in the near-country ''r a couple of years, T'd most forgotten Iei usly, g'onmy barracks these big flrtmenr buildinss were. Say, if they ,u -ilt state prisons like that, with no ire sun or air in the cells, there'd be awful howl. But the Roenheimers d the Max Blums an-1 the Gilottis can up jerrv built blocks with SxlO bed-hts bed-hts openin' on narrow air-shafts, and lr' rooms where you need a counle of J--h"s hurnin' on sunny da vs. and no---Tr. number, he takes his time findin' n hmAf VMfo Jw' ww- Wds messcti -around the vhc PocAet i )?t" hltl-v kztcAen evertkcfy ; trycr.' to kelfl tut W 1 vl'' ffifffi' spots mis face dt the Ymdow opositeT the questionnaire complete. Shall we?" So when we left to catch a late train for Long Inland it looked like West Humiptd and L'mpty Umpt street wan going to have something new sprung on it. Course, wo didn't know how far these two young couples would get toward re-formin' re-formin' Xew York, but they suro was in earnest, 'specially young Mrs. Bill, who seems to have more or less common sense tucked away between her ears. That must have been a week, or ten davs ago. and as we hadn't heard from any of them, or seen anything in the papers, we was kind of curious. So here yesterday I lias to call up Lucy Lee on ! tho 'phone. t "Say," says I. "how's that block eo-! eo-! ciablc progressiu' ?" "Oh, reru-cily wonderful!" says Lucy j Lee. "Why, at our first meeting, in a ; big dance hail, we h;id nearly ''j0 per-, per-, sons and were almost swamped. But E.sther is a perfect wizard at organizing. I She got them into groups in less than half an hour, and before we adjourned I they had formed ail kinds of clubs and ; associations, from subscription dance i clubs to a Lord Dunsany private the-I the-I atrical club. JJveryone in the block who I didn't turn out at first has been clamor-i clamor-i ing to get in since and It has been keep-! keep-! ing us t-usy sorting them out. You've no idea what a diiference it makes u'-J here. Why, I know almost everybody in 'the building now, and some of them are ' really c.iarrning people. They'ro begin - ning to f-ein like real neighbors and I 'don't think wc shall ever pass another dull evening while we live here. Liven folks across the street have heard abou . it and want Esther to come over and ' organize them." iro I had quite a bulletin to taJ;e home to Vee. "Isn't that splendid!" says she. "Anyway," says I. "I guess you started something. Tf it spreads enough, maybe j New York'll be almost fit to live In. But I have my doubts." Lucv t,ee. " I wonaer if tnere are many "unr ;wo or tr.ree miiimn more, savs T. "That's v.hv the cabarets and movie shows ate so popular." That starts us talkinsr over what there w as ior ioiks 10 tio in ,ew oru evening.-, and, while we can dope out quite a lot. of different ways of rrjsdin the time between S p. m. and midnight, nearly every one is so expensive that the average aver-age young couple can't a f ford tn tackle Yin more'n once a week or so. The oilier evenings they sit at home in the fiat. "And yet." says young Mrs. Fa ir field, "hardly any of them but could find a congenial group of people if if they only knew where to look, and lmw to got acquainted ac-quainted with each other. Why, right in this block I've noticed ever so many who I'm sure are rather nice. But there seems to bo no way of getting together." "That's it, precisely!" says Vc. "So why should you wish yourself back in China?" "I beg pardon?" says Mrs. BUI. "I mean," says Yet:, "that hero Is a missionary field, right at your door. If you can go oft among foreigners and get them to ,ive up some of their Billy ways and org a nine them into groups and classes, why can't you do something of the kind for these si 11 y Xew Y ork flat dwellers? Can't they be organized, too?" "Why," says Mrs. Bill, her eyes openin wider, "I never thought of that. But but there are so many of theju." "What about starting with your own block sucsrests Vee. "Perhaps with only one side of the street at first. Couldn' t you find out how many were intor-'sted in one particular thing musfc, j or dancing, or bridge and get them to gether .' "On. i see:' savs .Mrs. Bin. clappln' ner Hands, entnusrasticanv. "Make a social survev. wnv. or oourse. One couiii cet mi a sort or questionnaire card ana a i on it m tne letter noxes ior each i am n y to u:i out, ir tney carea to do so. and then you could call meetings of the various groups." "If I could find a few home folks from Virginia, that's all I would ask," sa s Lucv Lee. "Then v. o would start the card with 'Where born?' " snys Mrs. Bill. "That would show us how'many were southerners, southern-ers, how many from the west, from New England, and so on. Next we would want to know tome thing about their ages." "Not too much," suggests Hamilton i Blake. "Better ask 'em if they're over or under thirty." "Of course," says Mrs. Bill. ' "Let's see how such a card would look. Next we would ask them what amusements they liked best: music, dancing, theatre-going, theatre-going, bowling, bridge, private theatricals, chess, and so on. please check with a cross. And are you a highbrow; if so, why? Ts it art, books, languages, or the snare drum?" "Don't forget the poker fiends and the movie fans," I puts in. Mrs. Bill writes that down. "We will have to begin by electing ourselves an organizing committee," savs she, "and we will need a small printing fund." "I'll chip in ten," sa-s Mr. Blake. "So will we," says Vee. "And I am sure Bi'l will, too." savs Mrs. Fairfield, "which will be quite enough to print all the cards we need. And tomorrow evening we will get together to-gether in our apartment and make out ! out for us whether or not the Elakes are 1 for yourself. We are shown how, by leanln' out one of the front windows, you can almost see the North river; what a cute little dinin' room there is, with a built-in china closet and all: and how convenient the bathroom Is wedged in between t'ne two sleepinsr rooms. "But really,-' says - 'Lucy 'Lee. "the kitchen Is the nicest. Do you know, the sun actually comes in for nearly an hour even.- afternoon. And isn't everything so handy?" Yes. it was. You could stand in the middle and reach the gas stove with one hand and the sink with the other, and if you didn't want to use the washtub you could rest a loaf of bread on it. Then there was the dumb waiter door just beside the ice-box, and overhead a shelf where you could store a wholo dollar's dol-lar's worth of groceries, if you happened to have that much on hand ai once. It was all as handy as an upper berth. "You see," explains Lucy Lee. "we have no room for a maid, and couldn't possibly get one if wo did have room, so 1 am dolus: my own. work; that is, we are. Ha mil ton is realty quite a wonderful cook : aren't you, Ham my, dear? Of course, I knew how to make fude, and I am learr.iTfg to scramble. eggs. We go out for dinner a lot, too." "Isn't that nice?" says Yee, encour-agtin'. encour-agtin'. Gradually we got the whole story. It 3eems that Blake wasn't a captain any more, but had an engir.eerin' job on one of the new tubes, so they had to stick in New York. They had thought at first it would be thrilling, but I gathered that most of the thrilis had worn off. And along towards the end Lucy Lee admits that she's awfully lonesome. You see, she'd been used to ependin' about six months of the year with daddy in Washington, Wash-ington, three more in flittin' around from one house party to the other, and what was left of the year restln' up down on the big plantation, where they knew ail the neighbors for miles around. "But here," says she, "we seem to know hardly anyone. Oh, yes, there are a few people in town we've met, but somehow some-how we never see them. They live either in grand houses on Fifth avenue, or in. big hotels, or in Brooklyn." "Then you haven't gotten acquainted with anyone in the building here?" asks Vee. "Why," says Lucy Lee, "the Janitor's wife is a Mrs. Biggs, I believe. I've spoken to her several times about the milk." "You poor dear!" says Vee. "It's so tiresome," goes on T.ucy Lee, "wandering out at night to some strange restaurant and eating dinner among total strangers. We go often to one perfectly dreadful little place because there's a funny old waiter that we call by his first namd. He tells us about his married daughter, whose husband is a steanmtter and has been out on strike for nearly two months. But Hamilton always tips him more than he should, so it makes our dinners quite expensive. We have -to make up, next night, by having fried eggs and bacon at home." Wed, it's a tale of woe, all right. Lucy Lee don't mean to complain, but when she gets started on the subject she lets the whole thing out. Liie in the great city if you have to spend twenty hours out of the twenty-four in a five-and-bath apartment, ain't so allurln', the way she sketches it out. Course, she ain't uped to it, for one thing. She thinks if she had some friends near by it might not be so bad. As for Hamilton, he listens to her with a puzzled, hopeless expression, like he didn't understand. Vee seems to be studyin' over something, some-thing, but she don't appear to be gettin' anywhere. So we sits around and talks for an hour or so. There ain't room to do much- elpe in a flat. And about 9:30 Mr. Blake has a brilliant thought. "I say, Lucy," says he, "suppose we make a Hnkum-dirkum for the folks, eh?" "Sounds exc.it in'," says I. "Do you start by Jomin' hands around the table?" No, you don't. You get out the electric chafing dish and begin by frying some onions. Then you melt up some cheese, ndd some canned tomatoes, and the result is kind of a Spanish Welsh rabbit that's almost as tasty as it is smelly. It was while we was messln' around the vest pocket kitchen, everybody tryin" to help, that we spots this face at tiie window opposite. It's sort of a calm, aood-natured face. You wouldn't call the ! young lady a heart-breaker exact ly, for ,er mouth is cut kind of generous and her' Dig eyes are wide set and serious: but you mi glit guess that ehe wae a decent sort and more or less sociable. In fact, she's starin' across the ten feet or so of air space watchin' our maneuvers kind of interested and wistful. "Who's your neighbor?" asks Yee. "I'm suro I haven't an idea," says Lucy Lee. "I see her a lot, of course. She spends as much time in her kitchen as I do, even more. Usually she seems to be alone." "Why don't you speak to her some time?" suggested Vee. "Oh, I wouldn't dare," says Lucy Lee. "It it isn't done, you know. I tried that twice when I first came, with women i I met in the elevator, and I was promptly prompt-ly snubbed. New Yorkers don't do mat sort of thing, I understand." "Eut -she a rather a nice looking girl," insists Vee. "And, see, she's half smiling. smil-ing. I am going to speak to her." Which she does, right off tho bat. "I hope you don't mind the onionperfume?" sa;s Vee. , The strange young lady doesn't slam down the window and go off toss in' her hea d, indignant, so she can't be a real New Yorker. Instead she smiles and showg a couple of cheek dimples. "it smells mighty good." says she. "I was just wondering what it could be." "Won't you come over and find out?" says Vee. Finilln' back. "Yes, do come and join us." yuts in Lucy Lee. "l'U open the hall d:jr for you." "Why, I I'd love to if if I may," says the young lady. And that's how, half an hour or so later, when all that was left of this rinktum-dlddy trick was some brown smears on five emptv plates, we begun hearln' the story of the face at the window. win-dow. She's young Mrs. William Fairfield, Fair-field, and she's been that exactly three months. Before that she had been Miss Esther Hartley of Turkey Run. Md., and Kiaochow, China. Papa Hartley had been a medical missionary and Esther after she got through at Wellesley, had joined him as a nurse and kindergarten teacher. She'd been living in Kiaochow j for three years and the mission outfit I was getting along fine when some kind I of a Boxer mess broke out and thev all had to leave. Coming back on an Ital- ; ian steamer from Genoa she met Bill, : who'd been In aviation, and there'd been seme lovely moonlight nights, and well, Bill had persuaded her that teaching young Chinks to handle letters wouldn't be half as nice as being Mrs. William Hartley. Besides, he had a good position posi-tion waiting for hlii in a big wholesale leather house rjght Jn , New York, and it would be such fun living among regular people. : "I suppose It is fun, too," says Esther, Tut somehow I can't seem to get used to it. Everyone here gives vou such cold, suspicious looks; even the "folks you : meet in the hallways and elevator, as though they meant to say, 'Don't you dare speak to me. I don't know who or what you are, so don't come near.' They're like that, you know. Whv, the street gamins of Kiaochow were not much worse when I first went there. Yes, they did throw stones at me a few times, but In less than a month they were calling-me the Doctor Lady and letting me' tell them how wrong it was to spend so much time gambling around the food carts. Of course, they kent right on gambling for fried fish and rice cakes, but they would grin friendly when they saw me.. Up to tonight no one in New York has even smiled at me. "It's such a wonderful place, too: and iso big, you would almost think there was enough to share with strangers. But thev seem to resent my being here at all, so I go out very little now when I ara alone. And as Bill is away all day, and sometimes some-times has to work evenings as well. I am alone a great deal. About the only place I can see the sky from and other people is this little kitchen window. So I stay there a lot. and I am sorry to say that often I'm foolish enough to wish myself back at the mission among all those familiar yellow faces, where I could stand on the bamboo-Fhaded galleries and hear the hubbub in the compound, and watch the coolies wading about in the distant rice fields. Isn't that silly? There must be something queer about me." "Not so awfully queer," says Vee. "You're lonesome, that's all." "No more than I am, I'm sure," says |
