Margaret Sidney

“ Just as he did so the bell was pulled, the car stopped, and in came, in that peculiar way that only an over-full street car can develop, two puffy and well-laden individuals—Ingersol's seatmate of the morning, and a woman, evidently his wife, and built on as generous a pattern as himself. ”

“ As a result of this episode, the compassionate neighbors distributed the various bundles in their laps and on the floor, the big black bag and one good-sized square parcel in Manila paper being shoved up next to that holding the spoons, and belonging to Mr. James Ingersol.
Suddenly there was precipitated upon them one of those "blocks" that in Boston fall, like the gentle rain, "on the just and on the unjust," and after the first realization of it, exclamations and anxious surmises as to how long the thing would last, and whether certain trains could be caught, began to crop out on all sides. ”

“ Heavy steps sounded along the entry, and the door stood open, revealing the round, pleasant face of Mrs. Wilson, who, on his asking for the old gentleman, bade him come in, with a "Set down, do, an' I'll call pa."
Before "pa" came—which he did in his shirt sleeves, determined to show the young man no extra respect in the way of dressing up, as he knew pretty well who it was, "ma" having recognized him—Ingersol had time to rapidly take note of everything in the room, and to gauge the atmosphere of "Little Gray Hat's" home. ”

“ You've known her all this time!"
"Hulloa, Jim!" said Charley, with a drawl, and taking another bite at his meerschaum, while he dropped his legs to the floor. "Want me to get some more spoons—eh?" and he stuck his hands in both pockets.
"And you've known her," cried Ingersol, "and wouldn't stir a finger to help me—" a rush of his own unreasonableness making him stop short.
"Oh, they're going to fight!" cried Frances, huddling in between the two, and lifting her long tan-colored gloves beseechingly. "Stop! Stop, mister! whoever you are. You sha'n't touch my husband!" ”

“ Then he ran back again to paw over the bundle, and to lose himself over the cabalistic signs on the salesman's ticket within the box. But nothing gave him the least clew to the owner, nor how he was to get back his spoons, that he now saw must have been left in the car in exchange for the parcel looking so like it, that was brought in by his morning's friend, and also set on the floor.
"The old demon!" cried Ingersol between his teeth, frantically turning the box this way and that. "Ugh! that's worse than the stockings," as the necktie gleamed up at him. ”

“ About quarter of seven o'clock, after a little dinner at Parker's with a New York friend who was going out on the night express, Ingersol ran down Tremont Street, skipped up the stairs of an office building, and put his head into a dingy little office on the third floor.
"That's jolly, Charley! Got them?"
"Yes," said Charley, a stolid young man, with a pair of cheeks that would have graced a beer-garden, and not removing his meerschaum from between his teeth.
"Hurry up, old fellow, and produce them," said Ingersol, feverishly. "Hang it! will nothing rouse you?" ”

“ Away flew "Jim," careless what the opinion of his friend left behind might be, and hugging his box as he hurried to collect another set of spoons. "As if anything on earth could get these away from me, now that she has had them in her keeping!" he said to himself.
Doing two or three other little errands, at last he got himself home, where he managed to kill time till he could present himself, gotten up in his best style, at 21 Garden Street. ”

“ But "Little Gray Hat" was not in that car, nor in the forward one, nor, to make a long story short, in any car, though he searched long and carefully, going twice through them all.
By that time his box of spoons began to feel heavy, so he turned into a seat, tossed his parcel up into the rack, at odds with himself and all the world, and settled down in his corner to sleep off his vexation, only rousing up in time to seize his belongings and jump from the car. And presently he let himself into his own apartments, in a bad humor enough.
"A plague take the deuced things!" ”

“ She was Frances Shaw, an' she went to boardin'-school with our Hetty."
"Shaw? Thank you!" cried Ingersol, feeling quite determined that no Shaws in Boston should escape him; and he started to go. "Good-by, sir," putting out his hand to the old man.
"That was her name when she went to school," said Mrs. Wilson, hastily. "She's married now, an' I d'no' what her name is. Hetty don't call her anything but Frances. But I'll tell you where you may find her," brightening up. "She's going on the New York train to-morrow, an' you can see her at the deepo in the morning." ”

“ After he had chased it the whole length, to find it adorning the head of one of Africa's daughters, he hurried back, picked out the best rose-buds he could find in the tired-looking collection the girl offered him, and it being now 8.30 by the big depot clock, he concluded to take up his stand on the outside walk before the gates. Beyond lay the tracks, along one of which his darling must soon go.
"She can't escape me here," he muttered, as he paced back and forth, holding his basket of fruit and posies in what he considered the most careless of attitudes. ”

“ But we've got Mr. Wilson's bundle all right; you needn't worry a mite about that. Hetty sent it out by Georgy Hine; he comes out from school every aft'noon."
When, at last, James Ingersol got away from 21 Garden Street, it was to go to his room, pack a bag with his night things, write a note or two throwing up some engagements for the evening, and start for Boston.
"I might sleep too late in the morning, and miss the early train." He shivered at the thought. "So I'll run in to Parker's, and be down at the station at eight o'clock sharp." ”

“ THOSE SOUVENIR SPOONS.
BY MARGARET SIDNEY
MR. JAMES INGERSOL, a trim specimen of the modern young man about town, was off for Boston, and with the consciousness of a daintily served breakfast, settled where a breakfast should be at that hour of the morning—nine o'clock—he turned the key in his bachelor suite of apartments, and strode lightly off to the station, a block or so away.
"Old fellow, off to B., eh?" Some one on the platform clapped him lightly on the back, and Ingersol turned to see a young bank man.
"Hulloa, chappie; yes," said Ingersol. ”

“ But you never had time to come home with me, Jim, so 'tisn't my fault."
"And she's Hetty's—Miss Dunbar's friend?" gasped Jim, unable to get it even then through his head.
"Precisely. And I went down to the station yesterday to meet Hetty. Frances couldn't. That's the time you were as sweet as a snapping-turtle to me. Eh? Remember?" Charley now advanced and gave his friend a poke in the side, while he winked dreadfully. "Oh! by-the-way, Jim," he said, in a low voice, "didn't I have those spoons marked M. D. for you?"
Ingersol turned to Hetty. "I—I feel rather faint. This room is too hot. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1924, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 99 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”