The day book. [volume], July 10, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 7

About The day book. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917

Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

                
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THE STORY OF A SCANDALOUS FLIRTATION
CARRIED ON IN A NICKEL SHOW
BY JANE WHITAKER
Did ydu. ever feel so very disagree
able that nothing in the world seem
ed worth while and you felt spiteful
toward the people with laughing
faces and happiness in their hearts?
. That was the mood in which I en
tered a. moving picture show one
night not long since. Consequently
when a male creature crushed past
me and stepped on my foot I turned
toward him with a baneful glare.
Of course, I expected the usual
empty apology because no apology
ever soothes a foot that has been
tramped on, but you can imagine my
surprise when instead of an apology
the mortal looked at me with a grin
so good-natured and full of the joy
of living that before I thought I
grinned back.
That was a mistake, because he
was a flirtatious mortal and also an
irrepressible one, as I was soon to
discover.
Having rectified my mistake in
smiling by looking at him icily for a
moment, I turned back to the pic
tures, only to be conscious that he
was dividing his attention between
the screen and my face.
And in the next interval when I
knew he was looking at the pictures
I looked at him. He really was quite
prepossessing; he had a shock of
hair that made you just long to rum
ple it with your fingers, and his nose
wasn't very large or full of charac
ter, but it turned up in an adorable
manner.
He caught me looking at him and
his green blue eyes flashed another
smile of comradeship, but this time I
wasn't caught off my guard, though I
did turn hastily away.
Then something funny in a picture
made me forget my grievance against
the world and I laughed aloud.
It was the opportunity the flirta
tious one was waiting for.
"Funny, ain't it?" he said, and.
without waiting for my reply "there
was an awful funny one in here last
night."
I made no reply, but this did not
discourage him, for very soon I felt
his shoulder pressed quite affection-
ately against me and I wriggled over
in my seat only to encounter the
shoulder of a very fat lady on the
other side, who glared at me, so I
wriggled back.
This ericouraged the flirtatious
one still more. He contented him
self with leaning against me for a
few moments then, to my amaze
ment, he reached over and took hold
of my hand.
Of course, I tried to draw away,
but he held the hand so tightly I
realized that unless I wanted to cre
ate a scene I better let it alone.
"I like you," he said in a whisper
that could be heard three seats away.
I again looked at him icily.
"Do you like me?" he asked, still
louder.
Diplomacy dictated that, having
gotten myself into such a disagree
able, situation, I get out of it the best
I could, so I answered, briefly: "Oh,
yes."
A sigh of content and we both re
laxed with my hand still clutched in,
his warm one.
"Do you come to the picture show
every night?" he again broke the
silence.
"No."
"Will you come tomorrow night?"
"I don't know."
"If you do come, will you look for
me?" ,
I made no answer, but reached sug
gestively toward my hat.
"All the pictures ain't done," he
said, clutching my hand still more
tightly. "There's three and there's
only been two now."
I sat through the third picture,
more, I am compelled to admit,
through curiosity thai), interest, I
mme!