C. S. Montanye

“ I asked.
“I was taking a walk with Rosie,” Harry Hurley explained, “when we ran into Joe down at Coogan’s ice-cream parlor.”
“I had a nut sundae that was a wiz,” Rosie chirped.
“It’s funny,” I said, “but that’s the very dish I’d expect you to order.”
“It’s getting warmer,” Joe Bain said, looking at the moon. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it rained some time.”
After this amazing prognostication, Hurley threw a glance at his watch. “I guess I’ll go back to the hotel and turn in,” he said. “To-morrow we open up with the Englewood Eagles. They’re a tough bunch. I’ll need my strength.” ”

“ Grace kept quiet for a while. “I knew a girl like Rosie wouldn’t last long,” she said at length. “She’s so lively and pretty. Why, she hadn’t been in Trenton ten minutes before Harry Hurley was treating her to ice cream. She’s not the kind of a girl who remains single long. Aren’t you glad she’s engaged?”
"No; suspicious,” I answered. “It seems too good to be true.”
We talked for a time and then Joe Bain and Harry Hurley came down the street and stopped in. Both of them had a grouch.
“Somebody ought to warn Rosie about this Ray Weeks fish,” Hurley said. ”

“ I looked at Joe Bain. “What have you got against him?” I inquired.
“His mustache,” Joe snarled. “Can a man be on the level with a thing like that on his upper lip?”
Grace came to the rescue. “You certainly can’t judge a man’s character by his mustache,” she said decidedly. “Personally, I think that Mr. Weeks is a perfect gentleman.”
“Time will tell!” Harry Hurley croaked again.
Five minutes later the manager of the Tigers and the catcher departed for the village to drown their troubles in lemonade.
“Jealous!” I said. “The pair of them had hopes of Rosie.” ”