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Show Old Fool By PHILIP L. KETCHUM by McOlure Newspaper Syndicate. Vrail Service. JIM PETERS didn't even look up when Tony entered the room. He was sitting, looking out of the wludow, and he heard Tony bang the door and call out a greeting, but he didn't move. Tony said: "1 got tagged for over-parking over-parking today, Jim. That's the third time this month." Jim nodded and went on looking out the window. "Tony," he said, "I've had bad news." His voice was curiously flat. "I I didn't hear a word you said. I'm sorry." "What's troubling you, Jim?" he asked. "Anything I can do? You know how I feel about you." "Yes, I know. Tony. But you can't do anything. Nobody can." For a moment, Jim Teters hesitated. It was as though he were trying to summon the courage to go on. Shelia's dead." "What !" The younger man recoiled as though from a blow. "You you don't mean " Jim Peters nodded and turned back to look out the window. He blew his nose vigorously. "It was an automobile accident," Jim said at last. "She was alone, driving out the Robuck road. A truck struck her car at Sixty-seventh. It happened hap-pened just like that." "Where where did they take her?" Tony asked. Jim Peters turned around. "They took her home, Tony. I've just been there. I couldn't stand it. I had to come away." Tony nodded. He stood up. His face was drained white of blood and he seemed unsteady on his feet, but he moved forward until he stood close to his friend. "This is awful, Jim. Awful for yon." "For you, too, Tony. You liked her." "Yes I liked her." Both men were silent. They looked at each other, hardly knowing what to say. Then they both looked away. "It's all over," Tony breathed. Jim Peters nodded. "Yes, it's all over. You know how I feel, Tony. I feel just like you do and you feel just like ma For you loved her, too, didn't you?" Tony looked down at the floor. His shoulders drooped. "What difference does that make now?" he groaned. "And how could I? You loved her first, Jim. And you've been like a father to me." Jim Peters nodded. "That just it. I was too old," he whispered. And looking out of the window, he said aloud : "Tony, doD't you want to see her? Her mother Is all alone with her. I ought to go but I can't. Will you go, Tony?" Tony Caldwell nodded. "I I'll go, Jim." He crossed the room and opened the door. He closed it behind him very softly. After Tony had gone, Jim Peters stood for a while looking out of the window. Then he crossed the room to the telephone and gave a number. A moment later he said: "Shelia, is that you? . . . This is Jim. Listen, Tony is on his way over to your place. He has some crazy idea about your being dead. . . . Yes, dead. ... Oh, just be good to him, Shelia, and promise me one thing. . . . Don't tell him I called you. . . . It's just a joke." He hung up the receiver, abruptly, and hurried into the next room. Most of his things were packed. The trunks could be sent for later, of course, and the few things that he needed most he threw into a suitcase. Once he paused to look into the mirror and to examine his face quite closely. He had never admitted that he was getting old. It was only when he realized that Tony loved Shelia that he had suddenly become be-come conscious of his age. Tony seemed just like a kid and he had never felt any difference in their ages. But there was a difference. Shelia was twenty-five. He was almost forty. Outside he caught a cab and was driven to the Pennsylvania station. He climbed out, walked inside, and bought a ticket He started for the gate, reached It, passed through and started down the trains when he heard his name called and turned to lookback. look-back. A girl was trying to break past the barrier. She was running toward him, arms outstretched, face radiant. And then, irrespective of everyone, she j was in his arms, sobbing, and calling him an old fool. "Shelia," Jim Peters - asked, "what are you doing here? Where's Tony? Didn't he" The girl nodded against his chest. "He told me, Jim. But Tony, he's Just Tony. And you're you. And your story was so absurd. I I" The girl drew back. "You're not running away, are you?" she asked, frightened. Jim pulled her back in his arms. "I am not," he said. "But how did you find me?" Shelia's voice was muffled against his chest. Jim couldn't hear her very well. She said something about a wild taxi ride to his rooms, and she spoke of another wild ride to the station, aud in between she said something about finding a marked Pennsylvania timetable time-table on his bed. But Jim Peters wasn't paying very close attention to her explanation. Such trivial things really didn't matter. 1 I f |
