Dutton, Joe

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A White CarnationJoe Dutton~~GOOd morning, Miss Welch. Good morning, Miss Porter.You look particularly lovely this morning, Miss Bates."Miss Bates knew that she did not, but she smiled,thanked the middle-aged little man, and returned to manicur-ing her fingernails. The smile somehow reminded Mr. Fletch-er that Christmas was near and that he would have to order can-dy for the girls in the office. Last year he had given them silkstockings, but some of the men had teased him about thegifts. After careful thought, he had decided that candy wouldbe more appropriate this year.The brisk pitapat of his footsteps sounded through theo~fice as he hurried about, opening the window 'ever soshghtly and depositing his black, velvet-collared overcoat,his black umbrella, and his gray homburg on the woodenhatstand. He returned to his own desk and unwrapped acone-shaped package of green tissue paper which he hadplaced there, As part of a daily procedure, he took the freshwhite carnation out of the package, Without smelling theflower, an act which might make him seem effeminate, hepushed it into the buttonhole of his lapel. Miss Bates grinnedslyly as she watched him brush some some specks of lint fromhis coat and run two of his immaculate fingers across his neat,little gray mustache. .After crushing the tissue paper into a ball and droppingit into the wastebasket, Mr. Fletcher spread the morning'paper open across his desk and squinted at the headlines.Newspaper stories depressed him, but they had become sucha customary part of his life that he never thought of neglect-ing' them for one morning."Good morning, Bob," he said, when a thin young manreached the desk next to his. "Well, I suppose congratulationsare in order this morning?"The pale young man winced at Mr. Fletcher's smile."No, I'm afraid not, sir." Trying to show that he was eagerto end the conversation, he turned away from the older ma11:sgaze and began to thumb through the stacks of paper on hISdesk. ,"What? You mean you let her refuse you?" Fletcherwould not be put off. He insisted on hearing all the unpleas-ant details."'Let' is hardly the word for it, Mr. Fletcher," he an-6 MANUSCRIPTSswered sharply. The older man's prying questions were annoy-ing. In the four days since Bob Mills had started work at theof~ice, Mr. Fletcher had managed to di~cover a great manyt~111gSabout the young man. On the. first day, the preciselittle man had calculated that Bob was 111 love. On the secondBob had proudly displayed the ring that he intended to giv~his girl. And today, Mr. Fletcher knew the outcome of theplanned engagement.The middle-aged man rose from his desk and put his handon Bob's shoulder in a confidential, paternal manner. "Nowlisten, son," he said. "Don't let this thing get you down. It'snot that important. Remember that women are just like street-cars. If you miss one, there will be another coming alonsr infive minutes. And the nice thing about it is that the next "'oneis usually prettier than the one before. Why do you thinkI've stayed a bachelor all these years?" 1\111'.Fletcher chuckledheartily at his own witticism, paying no attention to his youngfriend's reaction to the tactless cons'olation. "Why, I remem-ber the only time I ever proposed - of course, when I wasyour age, I had more girls than I had time for anyway -but this girl _ Betsy her name was - was something' special.She had the 1110st beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen." A far-away, sentimental expression came across his face as he re-lived the love affair. "Well, I asked her to marry me and sherefused. For days I was broken~.hearted. Later, of course, Iknew she was really crazy about me. She was just trying toplay hard to get. It'6 a woman's favorite trick, son. Everyoneof them tries It at least once. So I thought I would teachBetsy a lesson. I left her house one night and never wentback." He cleared his throat with immense satisfaction. "Afew years afterwards," he continued, "Betsy married a banker,an old friend of mine, but from what her friends tell me,I guess she has never been really happy with him."Tihe seriousness 0-[ the older man's face checked Bob'simminent grin. He had not known "old Fletch," as the menin the office called him, long enough to be bored or irritatedby his endless accounts of romantic conquests, stories of howwomen were naturally charmed by him and of how he hadused various methods of his own to make himself even moredesirable. As yet, the young man was only amused by theaging Lothario who insisted on delving into anel solving theromantic and marital difficulties of his male co-workers. Bobstill smiled gently when Fletcher, fancying himself a greatman of the world, ogled anel flattered bespectacled and freck-MA!'<USCRIPTS 7led Miss Welch and skinny, old Miss Potter and the new girl,P'eggy Clark, and Miss Bates, who deserved the attentionperhaps, but who thought him somewhat quaint."Ignore this girl of yours for awhile," Fletcher went on."Take out someone else for a change. How about Miss Bates ?'"Bob laughed. "She is at least five years older than I am.""What difference does that make? Some of the best times ofmy life have been spent with older women. They're sophisti-cated and experienced. You don't have to be shy around awoman "vho',s a few years older than you, boy. Or what aboutPeggy Clark? She's young."Mr. Flekher saw the sneer on the young man's face andcould not understand it. He rather liked the girl's vivcl redhair, so skillfully dyed that only the sharp eyes of anotherwoman could detect the dark roots, and the tight skirts andeven tig'hter sweaters that she wore. He could not at all un-derstand a normal young man not beinsr attracted to the ob-• b bVIOll'S charms of Peggy Clark.He was about to make another suggestion when histhoughts were interrupted by the sound of the nine o'clockbell. Old Mr. Winslow had already put on his green eye-shadeand was pretending to read the reports on his desk. Steven-son's bald head was bent over a drawer in the olive-coloredfile cabinet. The other men were busy at typewr-iters, uponwhich they pounded fiercely, or were scrawling across lengthygo:vermnent forms, flipping over the pages with a loud rustlingnorse, expressing their contempt and exasperation. Everyol':ewas accounted for, everyone except Peggy Clark who was 111the habit of appearing fifteen or twenty minutes late in a breezeof strong-smelling perfume. Fletcher, although reluctant topostpone the solution of Bob's problems until the lunch hour,hastened back to his desk, while Bob, in a happier state ofmind than he had believed possible, smiled after him.The morning passed as it ordinarily did, accented onlyhy the nine-thirty arrival of Peg Clark, the click of typewriter keys, the sound of paper -being crumpled and thrownaway, and the asthmatic wheezes of Ned Baker. At eleveno'clock, a group, consisting' of all the men in the office exceptBoh, Fletcher, and old Mr. Winslow, formecl around Peggy'sdesk. Their whispers were broken now and. then by the soundof suggestive masculine laughter and Peg's soft giggles. Al-though she had worked in the office for only about threeweeks, the girl was already famous for the risque little storiesshe told him and for the disarming way she used her eyes in8 MANUSCRIPTStelling them. Undoubtedly, Bob decided, this was the reasonfor the conference and for the scornful expression on MissBates' face as she passed on her way to the pencil sharpener.Bob slipped away from Mr. Fletcher during' the lunchhour. He did not particularly relish the idea of hearing theolder man expound his theories on the feminine heart or theprolonged accounts of his youthful escapades. For the timebeing, Bob preferred to suffer his rejection alone and in si-lence. The cheerful attitude he had maintained during themorning had gradually slipped away and given place to moremelancholy thoughts. He had not yet reached the point ofrealizing that embarrassment more than disappointment wasthe cause of his unhappiness.When he returned from lunch, he found Peggy Clarkseated on the top of Mr. Fletcher's desk; the little man him-self was beaming up at her in childish delight. Peggy's headwas tilted 0 at just the. right angle so that her long red hairfell coquettishly over one of her brown eyes. The two werewh.isper ing' confidentially, and old Fletch giggled happilyas Peg leaned over to straighten the white carnation on hislapel. Neither of them seemed to notice the sly winks andsnickers which were being exchanged from desk to desk aroundthem. Nor were they aware of the indignant stare from MissBates whose teeth were clenched tightly together and whoseface was scarlet. Peg was smoking a cigarette the little manhad lighted for her. With a long, red fingernail she pickeda bit of tobacco off her tongue and blew a large curl ofsmoke into the air. She looked down and thought ofhow stupid Fletcher's shiny black shoes with their point-ed toes looked beside her own high-heeled green slipperswith straps encircling her slender ankles, but the smile onher red lips betrayed none of her thoughts. When the oneo'clock bell rang, she lifted herself frorn the desk and, afterbrushing one of her hands lightly across the back of Fletcher'sneck sauntered back to her own work.Undisturbed by the looks which Peg threw over hershoulder every now and then to Mr. Fletcher, Bob settledclown to work again. Others in the room did not fail tonotice these subtle cues, however, and throughout the after-noon knowing smiles and sarcastic whispers were hiddenbehind cupped hands.Shortly before quiting time, Bob rose and walked to thewindow from which he could watch the miniature peopleand automobiles hurrying along the street ten stories below.MANUSCRIPTSHe had almost forgqtten his own worries in contemplation ofold Fletch and the redhead. Little Miss Potter walked upto his side and tugged at his coat sleeve. "What's been caus-ing all the disturbance back here today? Is it Peggy Clark ?"Miss Potter had always found newcomers eager to divulgeoffice secrets which were kept from her ears.Bob looked down into the woman's sharp blue eyes,and remembering what had been whispered to him about MissPotter's influence with their employer, he decided to be asnon-committal as possible. "To tell you the truth," he an-swered, "I haven't noticed anything today. I've had several re-ports to finish."Miss Potter's sneer informed the young man that he wasnot a good liar. "VVell , mark my words," the harsh littlevoice said, "that girl won't be in this office much longer. She'sa born trouble-maker. If I were her mother .... " The spin-ster shook her head disapprovingly at the girl and clicked hertongue loudly, obviously not knowing at all what she woulddo if she were Peg Clark's mother. Her thin lips tightenedinto a single straight line. She turned abruptly and in a verybusiness-like manner returned to her desk, her movementsfollowed l)y the eyes of everyone in the office.Only a few minutes later, desks were being straightened,windows closed, and overcoats put on. Bob smiled becausefive o'clock always occasioned more activity than had beenevidenced in the office all day.He had just pulled on his gloves and stepped out intothe cold night air when he was jabbed in the side by NedBaker's pudgy elbow. The fat man's face was beaming withgood humor. "Bob, this is too good to keep," he spluttered."I've got to tell someone before I burst," he chuckled. "Guesswhat?" He hesitated, hoping the young man would venturea guess. "vVe've arranged a date for old Fletch with PegClark. Isn't that the tops?" He broke into a fit of laughter,his face turning red and his eyes glistening with happy tears.Bob glared at him angrily. "What the ... ? What wasthe idea of doing' that 7 Fletch is harmless . . . he's . . . ."His words trailed off as the fat man shrugged his shouldersand, still giggling, walked away with_ Bob staring after him.For a moment the young man considered trying to catchup with Mr. Fletcher and warning him, but he hesitated."After all, what good would it do 7" he wondered. "What couldhe say? 'Don't go with Peg Clark; she's too experienced foryou.' That would be ridiculous. Fletch is old enough to take10 MANUSCRIPTScare of himself," Bob decided. But he could not control thesickness he felt in his stomach as he shoved his hands deepinto his warm pockets and walked away in the oppositedirection. He wondered why- he felt this way. If anyone elsehad decided to go out with Peggy Clark, he would have beenonly mildly amused, but the idea of Fletcher, whom Bobsuddenly realized was painfully naive, with the slim red-head was almost repulsive to him.Even if he had tried to catch the middle-aged little man,he would have failed. Farther down the street Mr. Fletcherwas hurrying along at great speed, hoping to reach the flor-ist shop before closing time so that he could select a freshwhite carnation. Having made his purchase, Fletcher hastenedto his shabby room in a downtown boarding-house. He haddecided not ' to eat that evening because pay-day was stilI aweek away and three clays earlier he had made Ned Baker aloan of ten dollars. If he had been entirely honest with him-self, he would have admitted that he did not feel much likeeating anyway. In spite of his blase attitude about women,he was 1110re than a little excited by the prospects for theevening. He was thrilled by the thought that he, in an officefull of ..much younger men, should be the first to attract thenew girl's attention. He hoped that someone from the officewould see him with Peggy Clark so that they would allknow about the date in the morning. Of course, he would tellBob himself, but he preferred that everyone else should learnabout it in a less direct way.He spent almost an hour and a half in preparation. Hebrushed his clothes carefully and polished his shoes until hecould see his reflection in them. \iVith a tiny pair of scissorshe clipped the neat gray mustache. He took infin ite pains incombing his hair so that the small bald spot at the back ofhis head would not be noticeable. The final touch was, ofcourse, the white carnation, which he unwrapped slowly andwhich he was happy to sniff in the privacy of his own 1'00111.After several momem s of indecision, he decided not to takehis umbrella, although he was certain it would rain beforethe evening encled.By twenty minutes past seven o'clock, ten minutes beforePeg- was to meet him, he arrived at the drugstore which shehael chosen for their meeting place. She had explained thather mother would not approve of her going out with an olderman. Mr. Fletcher glanced at his pocket watch and slid ontoone of the stools at the dirty soda fountain. The sleepy-eyedsoda clerk, his white jacket splattered with chocolate syrup,MANUSC&IPTS 11surveyed the dapper little man curiously. Mr. Fletcher ordereda cup of coffee, and when the soda clerk's sticky fingers had.pushed it toward him, he started to plan the evening. Hethought that they would probably go to the movies and after-wards to a little restaurant ~near the motion picture house.He hoped that Peg did not drink. He did not, and it wouldbe embarrassing if she wanted to go to a bar. He had al-ready slipped a package of cigarettes, the brand which Peggyalways smoked, into one of the big pockets of his shabbyovercoat.W'hen he had finished his coffee, Peg was already tenrninutes late, but Fletcher had not expected her to be prompt.It was not until almost eight o'clock that he became seriouslyconcerned. He wondered if Peg's mother had discovered theirplans and had forbidden her daughter to leave the house. Afterall, Peg only twenty. He could not blame her mother for anysuspicions she might have. 11e had already felt 'some qualmshimself. He had never before indulged in a May and Decem-ber romance, and although questions of propriety did notusually bother him, he "vas sorry that the date had ever beenarranged.At eight o'clock he decided, to his relief, what he woulddo. He would telephone the girl, apologize to her mother, andask Peg to forget all about him if she could. Once the decisionhad been made, he did not hesitate in carrying it out. Heasked the clerk for change, found the correct telephone num-her, and made the call. "Hello, is this Miss Clark?" he spokeinto the receiver. "This is Raymond Fletcher."Afterwards Peg's exact words were blurred in his mind,except for a few which lodged there so indelibly and so pain-fully that he was certain he could never forget them. "Youdidn't take me seriously, did you?" she had laughed. Thatlow, mocking laugh had been the most terrible sound he hadever heard. "Don't be an old fool!" Her voice was high andangry, For a moment, but only for a moment, he felt thatthat Was exactly what he had been - an old fool.His face and eyes stung with humiliation when he step-peel out of the phone booth. Almost mechanically, he yankedthe white carnation from the bottonhole, dropped it on thefloor, and crushed it under one for the brightly-polished blackshoes. He turned the collar of his overcoat up around hisneck and left the drugstore.It was raining now and the bright neon lights of the citywere reflected as fluid streaks of color on the wet pavement. He12 MANUSCRIPTS/did not wait for a bus, but walked out into the rain, let.ting-it beat gently against his hot face. IHs head throbbed nuser-ably, until thei air and the cold rain slowly relieved the ache."Why did she do' it?" he wondered. "What reason could shehave had? Perhaps she was ill and did not mean a word shehad said. Maybe the telephone conversation was only a per-formance for the sake of her mother. Being so young, perhapsshe had heard about his reputation .and was a little frightened.Yes, that was it. She was frightened, because he was sucha man of the world and she was so young." He would not- could not accept the idea that he was unat.tractive or old.and foolish to her. He was only thankful he had not spokenof the date at the office during the day.In spite of the rain, the colorful displays in the shopwindows cheered him a bit. I-Ie stopped to admire an expen-sive suit in one of the windows and wished that he couldown it. When he finally climbed .the squeaky wooden stairs,at the boarding-house an-d unlocked the door to the quietnessof his room, he regretted throwing away the white carnation.He would have to buy another in the morning.

A White Carnation

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A White Carnation

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