by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER V
THE VAMP IN THE WINDOW
It was a case of Vee's being in town on a shoppin' orgie and my beinginvited to hunt her up about lunch time.
"Let's see," she 'phoned, "suppose you meet me about 12:30 at the MaisonNoir. You know, West Fifty-sixth. And if I'm having a dress fitted onthe second floor just wait downstairs for me, will you, Torchy?"
"In among all them young lady models?" says I. "Not a chance. You'llfind me hangin' up outside. And don't make it more'n half an hour behindschedule, Vee, for this is one of my busy days."
"Oh, very well," says she careless.
So that's how I came to be backed up in the lee of the doorway at 12:45when this stranger with the mild blue eyes and the chin dimple eases inwith the friendly hail.
"Excuse me," says he, "but haven't we met somewhere before?"
Which is where my fatal gift for rememberin' faces and forgettin' namescomes into play. After giving him the quick up and down I had him placedbut not tagged.
"Not quite," says I. "But we lived in the same apartment buildin' acouple of years back. Third floor west, wasn't you?"
"That's it," says he. "And I believe I heard you'd just been married."
"Yes, we did have a chatty janitor," says I. "You were there with yourmother, from somewhere out on the Coast. We almost got to the noddin'point when we met in the elevator, didn't we?"
"If we did," says he, "that was the nearest I came to getting acquaintedwith anyone in New York. It's the lonesomest hole I was ever in.Say----"
And inside of three minutes he's told me all about it; how he'd broughtMother on from Seattle to have a heart specialist give her a threemonths' treatment that hadn't been any use, and how he'd come East alonethis time to tie up a big spruce lumber contract with the airplanedepartment. Also he reminds me that he is Crosby Rhodes and writes thename of the hotel where he's stopping on his card. It's almost like areunion with an old college chum.
"But how do you happen to be sizin' up a show window like this?" says I,indicatin' the Maison Noir's display of classy gowns. "Got somebody backhome that you might take a few samples to?"
His big, square-cut face sort of pinks up and his mild blue eyes take onkind of a guilty look as he glances over his shoulder at the window."Not a soul," says he. "The fact is, I'm not much of a ladies' man. Beenin the woods too much, I suppose. All the same, though, I've alwaysthought that if ever I ran across just the right girl----" Here hescrapes his foot and works up that fussed expression again.
"I see," says I, grinnin'. "You have the plans and specifications allframed up and think you'd know her on sight, eh?"
Crosby nods and smiles sheepish. "It's gone further than that," says he."I--I've seen her."
"Well, well!" says I. "Where?"
He looks around cautious and then whispers confidential. "In that showwindow."
"Eh" says I, gawpin'. "Oh! You mean you got the idea from one of thedummies? Well, that's playin' it safe even if it is a little unique."
Crosby seems to hesitate a minute, as if debatin' whether to let it rideat that or not, and then he goes on:
"Say," he asks, "do--do they ever put live ones in there?"
"Never heard of it's being done," says I. "Why?"
"Because," says he, "there's one in this window right now."
"You don't say?" says I. "Are you sure?"
"Step around front and I'll point her out," says he. "Now, right over inthat far--Why--why, say! She's gone!"
"Oh, come!" says I. "You've been seein' things, ain't you? Or maybe itwas only one of the salesladies in rearrangin' the display."
"No, no," says Crosby emphatic. "I tell you I had been watching her forseveral minutes before I saw you, and she never moved except for aflutter of the eyelids. She was standing back to, facing that mirror, soI could see her face quite plainly. More than that, she could see me. Ofcourse, I wasn't quite sure, with all those others around. That's why Ispoke to you. I wanted to see what you'd say about her. And now she'sdisappeared."
"Uh-huh!" says I. "Most likely, too, she was hauled head first throughthat door in the back and if you stick around long enough maybe you'llsee her shoved in again, with a different dress on. Say, Mr. Rhodes, nowonder you're skirt-shy if you never looked 'em over close enough not toknow the dummies from the live ones. Believe me, there's a lot ofdifference."
But the josh don't seem to get him at all. He's still gawpin' puzzledthrough the plate glass. Finally he goes on: "If this was the firsttime, I might think you were right. But it isn't. I--I've seen herbefore; several times, in fact."
"As bad as that, eh?" says I. "Then if I was you I'd look up a doctor."
"Now listen," says he. "I don't want you to think I'm foolish in thehead. I'm giving you this straight. Only you haven't heard it all yet.You see, I've been walking past here nearly every day since I've been intown--almost three weeks--and at about this time, between twelve-thirtyand one, getting up a luncheon appetite. And about ten days ago I got aglimpse of this face in the mirror. Somehow I was sure it was a face I'dseen before, a face I'd been kind of day dreaming about for a year ormore. Yes, I know that may sound kind of batty, but it's a fact. Out inthe big woods you have time for such things. Anyway, when I saw thatreflection it seemed very familiar to me. So the next day I stopped andtook a good look. She was there. And I was certain she was no dummy. Icould see her breathe. She was watching me in the glass, too. It's beenthe same every time I've been past."
"Well," says I, "what then?"
"Why," says he, "whether it's someone I've known or not, I want to findout who she is and how I can meet her for--for--Well, she's the girl."
"Gee!" says I, "you're a reg'lar Mr. Zipp-Zipp when it comes to romanticnotions, ain't you?" And I looks him over curious. As I've always held,though, that's what you can expect from these boys with chin dimples.It's the Romeo trade-mark, all right, and Crosby had a deep one. "Butsee here," I goes on, "suppose it should turn out that you're wrong;that this shop window siren of yours was only one of the kind with acomposition head, a figure that they blow up with a bicycle pump, andwooden feet? Where does that leave you?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I wish you could have seen her," says he.
"What sort of a looker?" I asks. "Blonde or brunette?"
"I don't know," says he. "She has a wonderful complexion--like oldivory. Her hair is wonderful, too, sort of a pale gold. But her eyebrowsare quite dark, and her eyes--Ah, they're the kind you couldn'tforget--sort of a deep violet, I think; maybe you'd call 'em plumcolored."
"Listens too fancy to be true," says I. "But they do get 'em up that wayfor the trade."
There's no jarrin' Crosby loose from his idea, though, and he's justproposin' that I meet him there at twelve-thirty next day when Veedrifts out and I has to break away. "I'll let you know if I can," says Ias I walks off.
Course, Vee wants to know who my friend is and all about it, and whenI've sketched out the plot of the piece she's quite thrilled. "Howinteresting!" says she. "I do hope he finds out it's a real girl Some ofthose models are simply stunning, you know. And there is such a thingas a face haunting you. Oh, by the way! Do you remember the Stribbles?"
"Should I?" I asks.
"The janitor's family in that apartment building where we used to live,"explains Vee.
"Stribble?" says I. "Oh, yes, the poddy old party who did all the hardsitting around while his wife did the work. What reminded you of them?"
"I'm sure I don't know," says Vee. "But a month or so ago I saw the nameprinted in an army list of returned casualty cases--there was a boy, youknow, and a girl--and I thought then that we ought to look them up andfind out. Then I forgot all about it until just a few moments ago. Let'sgo there, Torchy, before we go out home tonight?"
I must say I couldn't get very much excited over the Stribbles, but onthe chance that Vee would forget again I promised, and let her tow meinto one of those cute little tea rooms where we had a perfectly punklunch at a dollar ten per each. Bu
t even after a three hour sessionamong the white goods sales Vee still remembered the Stribbles, so aboutfive o'clock we finds ourselves divin' into a basement that's none tooclean and are being received by a tall, skinny female with a tously mopof sandy hair bobbed up on her head.
It seems Ma Stribble was still shovelin' most of the ashes andscrubbin' the halls as well; while Pa Stribble, fatter than ever and inthe same greasy old togs, continues to camp in a rickety arm chair bythe front window, with a pail of suds at his right elbow. Yes, the onementioned in the casualty list was their Jimmy. Only he hadn't come backa trench hero, exactly. He'd collected his blighty ticket without beingat the front at all--by gettin' mixed up with a steel girder in someconstruction work. A mashed foot was the total damage, and he was havinga real good time at the base hospital; would be as good as new in a weekor so.
"Isn't that fortunate?" says Vee. "And your daughter, where is she?"
"Mame?" says Ma Stribble, scowlin' up quick. "Gawd knows where she is. Idon't."
"Why, what do you mean?" asks Vee. "She--she hasn't left home, has she?"
"Oh, she sleeps here," goes on Ma Stribble, "and comes home for some ofher meals, but the rest of the time----" Here she hunches her shoulders.
"Huh!" grunts Pa Stribble. "If you could see the way she togs herselfout--like some chorus girl. I don't know where she gets all them flossythings and she won't tell. Paint on her face, too. It's bringin' shameon us, I tell her."
Mrs. Stribble sighs heavy. "And we was tryin' to bring her up decent,"says she. "I got her a job, waitin' in a lunch room up on' the Circle.But she was too good for that. Oh, my, yes! Chucked it after the firstweek. And then she began bloomin' out in fine feathers. Won't say whereshe gets 'em, either. And her always throwin' up to her father about notworkin', when he's got the rheumatism so bad he can hardly walk attimes! Gettin' to be too much of a lady to live in a basement, she is.Humph!"
It looked like Vee had started something, for the Stribbles wereknockin' Mame something fierce, when all of a sudden they quits and wehears the street door open. A minute later and in walks a tall, willowyyoung party wearin' a near-leopard throw-scarf, one of these snappyFrench tams, and a neat black suit that fits her like it had been run onhot.
If it hadn't been for the odd shade of hair and the eyes I wouldn't haveremembered her at all for the stringy, sloppy dressed flapper I used tosee going in and out with the growler or helping with the sweepin'. MameStribble had bloomed out, for a fact. Also she'd learned how to use alip-stick and an eyebrow pencil. I couldn't say whether she'd touched upher complexion or not. If she had it was an artistic job--just a faintrose-leaf tint under the eyes. And I had to admit that the whole effectwas some stunnin'. Course, she's more or less surprised to see all thecomp'ny, but Vee soon explains how we've come to hear about Brother Jimand she shakes hands real friendly.
"I suppose you are working somewhere?" suggests Vee.
Mame nods.
"Where?" asks Vee, going to the point, as usual.
Miss Stribble glances accusin' at paw and maw. "Oh, they've beenroastin' me, have they?" she demands. "Well, I can't help it. What theywant to know is how much I'm gettin' so I'll have to give up more. Butit don't work. See! I pay my board--good board, at that--and I'm notgoin' to have paw snoopin' around my place tryin' to queer me. Let himget out and rustle for himself."
With that Mame sheds the throw-scarf and tosses her velvet tam on thetable.
"I'm so sorry," says Vee. "I didn't mean to interfere at all. And I'veno doubt you have a perfectly good situation."
"It's good enough," says Mame, "until I strike something better."
"What a cunning little hat!" says Vee, pickin' up the tam. "Such a lotof style to it, too."
"Think so?" says Mame. "Well, I built it myself."
"Really!" says Vee. "Why, you must be very clever. I wish I could dothings like that."
Trust Vee for smoothin' down rumpled feathers when she wants to. Insideof two minutes she had Mame smilin' grateful and holdin' her hand as shesays good-by.
"Poor girl!" says Vee, as we gets to the street. "I don't blame her forbeing dissatisfied with such a father as that. And it's just awful theway they talk about her. I'm going to see if I can't do something forher at the shop."
"Eh?" says I. "She didn't tell you where she was working."
"She didn't need to," says Vee. "The name was in the hat lining--theMaison Noir."
"Say, you're some grand little sleuth yourself, ain't you?" says I.
"And that explains," Vee goes on, "why I happened to remember theStribbles today. I must have seen her there. Yes, I'm sure I did--thatpale gold hair and the old ivory complexion are too rare to----"
"Why!" I breaks in, "that's the description Crosby Rhodes gave me ofthis show window charmer of his."
"Was it?" says Vee. "Then perhaps----"
"But what could she have been doing, posin' in the window?" I asks."That's what gets me."
It got Vee, too. "Anyway," says she, "you must meet that Mr. Rhodestomorrow and tell him what you've discovered. He's rather a nice chap,isn't he?"
"Oh, he's all right, I guess," says I. "A bit soft above the ears,maybe, but out in the tall timber I expect he passes for a solidcitizen. I don't just see how I'm going to help him out much, though."
"I'll tell you," says Vee. "In the morning I will 'phone to MadameMaurice that I want you to see the frock I've picked out, and you cantake Mr. Rhodes in with you."
So that's the way we worked it. I calls up Crosby, makes the date, andwe meets on the corner at twelve-thirty. He's more or less excited.
"Then you think you know who she is?" he asks.
"If you're a good describer," says I, "there's a chance that I do. Butlisten: suppose she's kind of out of your class--a girl who's beenbrought up in a basement, say, with a janitor for a father?"
"What do I care who her father is?" says Crosby. "I was brought up in alumber camp myself. All I ask is a chance to meet her."
"You sure know what you want," says I. "Come on."
"See!" he whispers as we get to the Maison Noir's show window. "She'sthere!"
And sure enough, standin' back to, over in the corner facin' the mirror,is this classy figure in the zippy street dress, with Mame Stribble'shair and eyes. She's doin' the dummy act well, too. I couldn't seeeither breath or eye flutter.
"Huh!" says I. "It's by me. Let's go in and interview Madame Maurice."
We had to waste four or five minutes while I inspects the dress Vee hasbought, and I sure felt foolish standin' there watchin' this young ladymodel glide back and forth.
"I trust Monsieur approves?" asks Madame Maurice.
"Oh, sure!" says I. "Quite spiffy. But say, I noticed one in the windowthat sort of took my eye--that street dress, in the corner."
"Street dress?" says the Madame, lookin' puzzled. "Is M'sieur certain?"
"Maybe I'd better point it out."
But by the time I'd towed her to the front door there was nothing of thekind in sight.
"As I thought," says Madame. "A slight mistake."
"Looks so, don't it?" says I, as we trails back in. "But you have a MissMamie Stribble working here, haven't you; a young lady with kind ofgoldy hair, dark eyebrows and a sort of old ivory complexion?"
"Ah!" says the Madame. "Perhaps you mean Marie St. Ribble?"
"That's near enough," says I. "Could I have a few words with her?"
"But yes," says Madame Maurice. "It is her hour for luncheon. I willsee." With that she calls up an assistant, shoos me into a back parlorand asks me to wait a moment, leavin' Crosby out front with his mouthopen.
And two minutes later in breezes the Madame leadin' Mame Stribble by thearm. The lady boss seems somewhat peeved, too. "Tell me," she demands,"is this the street dress which you observed in the window?"
"That's the very one," says I.
"Hah!" says she. "Then perhaps Marie will explain to me later. For thepresent, M'sieur, I leave you."
"Sorry if
I've put you in bad, Miss Stribble," says I, as the Madamesweeps out.
"Oh, that's all right," says Mame, tossin' her chin. "She'll get overit. And, anyway, I was takin' a chance."
"So I noticed," says I. "What was the big idea, though?"
"Just sizin' up the people who pass by," says Mame. "It's grand sporthavin' 'em stretch their necks at you and thinkin' you're just a dummy.I got onto it one day while I was changin' a model. Course, it cuts intomy lunch time, and I have to sneak a dress out of stock, but it's kindof fun."
"'Specially when you've got one particular young gent coming to watchregular, eh?" I suggests.
That seems to give her sort of a jolt and for a second she stares at me,bitin' her upper lip. "Who do you mean, now?" she asks.
"He has a chin dimple and his name's Crosby Rhodes," says I. "You've putthe spell on him for fair, too. He's out front, waiting to meet you."
"Oh, is he?" says Mame, lettin' on not to care. "And yet when he waslivin' in one of our apartments he passed me every day without seein' meat 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 asa reg'lar feller, one of the kind you could tie to. And when he'd almoststep over me without noticin'--well, I'll admit that sort of hurt. Iexpect that's why I made up my mind to shake the mop and pail outfit andbreak in some place where I could pick up a few tricks. After a fewstabs I landed here at the Maison. I remember I had on a saggy skirt anda shirtwaist that must have looked like it had been improvised out of acoffee sack. It's a wonder they let me past the door. But they did. Forthe first six weeks, though, they kept me in the work rooms. Then I gotone of the girls to help me evenings on a black taffeta; I saved upenough for two pairs of silk stockin's, blew myself to some pumps withfour inch heels, and begun carryin' a vanity box. It worked. Next thingI knew they had me down on the main floor carryin' stock to the modelsand now and then displayin' misses' styles to customers. I had a hunchI was gettin' easier to look at, but you never can tell by the way womensize you up. All they see is the dress. And in the window there I had achance to see whether I was registerin' with the men. That's the wholetragic tale."
"Leaving out Crosby Rhodes."
"That's so," admits Mame. "And it was some satisfaction, bringin' him tolife."
"You've done more'n that," says I. "He's one of these guys that wantswhat 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 littlestraight-through-on-Main-street burgs, I suppose?"
"Headquarters in Seattle, I understand," says I. "That's hardly on theTom show circuit."
"Yes, I guess I've heard of the place," says Mame. "But what's hisproposition!"
"First off," says I, "Crosby wants to get acquainted. If he has anyhymen stuff up his sleeve, I expect you'd better hear that from himpersonally. 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 himin."
And, honest, as I slips out of the Maison Noir and beats it for mylunch, I felt like I'd done a day's work. What it would come to was byme. They was off my hands, anyway.
That couldn't have been over a week ago. And here only yesterday Crosbycomes crashin' into the Corrugated general offices, pounds meenthusiastic on the back, and announces that I'm the best friend he'sgot in the world.
"Meanin', I expect," says I, "that Miss Stribble and you have beengettin' on?"
"Old man," says Crosby, his mild blue eyes sparklin', "she's a wonderfulgirl--wonderful! And within a week she's going to be Mrs. Crosby Rhodes.We start for home just as soon as the Maison Noir can turn out hertrousseau; which is going to be some outfit, take it from me."
I hope I said something appropriate. If I didn't I expect Crosby was tooexcited to notice. Also that night I carried home the bulletin to Vee.
"There!" says Vee. "I just knew, the moment I saw her, that she wasn'tat all as that horrid old man tried to make us believe."
"No," says I, "Mame's vamping was just practice stuff. A lot of it islike that, I expect."
"But wasn't it odd," goes on Vee, "about her meeting the very man she'dliked from the first?"
"Well, not so very," says I. "With that show window act she had the netspread kind of wide. The only chance Crosby had of escape was by stayingout of New York, and nobody does that for very long at a time."