THE EVENING STORY CITY TRIMMING

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXIX, Issue 13309, 8 April 1941, Page 3

THE EVENING STORY CITY TRIMMING

BY JOHN F. HAYES

The heavy blue and chrome roadster eased to a stop before the entrance of the Sheraton Plaza. The doorman, epaulets glittering, scuttled to the curb and opened the door. But Mrs Gilbert, small and neat in her printed blue silk, made no move to get out. She looked up doubtfully into her son’s face. “Is there anything the matter, Charlie?” “Why, no, mother.” Chuck Gilbert nodded toward the Sheraton Plaza.| “We’re here, that’s all. Hop out.” “Oh.” She looked up at the tall apartment hotel and gulped. “Do you live—here?” “Sure thing, honey pie . . . Boy, take these bags to apartment 613. Jeff,” to the doorman, “take this and beat it. This is one guest I’m going to escort myself.” The bill changed hands and disappeared instantly. The gorgeous one bowed low. “Yas, suh!” “Well,’’ remarked Mrs Gilbert, and struggled out of the cushions. “It’s like the movies. If I wasn’t here myself I’d never believe it. And look!” “What now?” “Goldfish in the fountain! They had some in the pool at Central Park, back in Walnut Grove, but the kids got ’em after a couple days. But these! If your pa was here he’d go right down town and buy a fish pole.” “Good old dad,” laughed Chuck. “Seems like only yesterday he was whaling me one minute and taking

me out after walnuts the next. How is he, anyway? He never writes.” ‘‘Weil, for that matter, neither do you,” commented Mrs Gilbert. They entered the hotel lobby, ‘‘So this is your house. Why it’s like a store, isn’t it? Only with chairs. Are these folks all your friends?” She walked up to a young man idling beside a potted palm and extended her hand. “I’m Charley’s mother. First time I’ve seen him in four years. I want to meet all his friends.” The stranger took her hand warmly and bowed, “I congratulate you both,” he said. A sleek-haired servant in a white coat let them into apartment 613, “Thank you, Hyams,” said Chuck. “This is my mother. Send Ethel in, if you will?” “Yes, Mr Gilbert. I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am.” “Who’s that?” his mother wanted to know. “That’s my man. And here is his wife. Ethel, show my mother to her room and help her freshen up a bit.” “Yes, sir.” Ethel plucked the wrap from the woman’s arm. “This way, Mrs Gilbert.” “Well,” said Mrs Gilbert. “A hired man and a hired girl too. Think of that. Charley’s a pretty busy man, I guess. What’s your name, honey Mrs Hyams?” “Yes, actually,” smiled the maid. “But you’re to call me Ethel. Just sit down.” The girl knelt and slipped off the woman’s shoe«. Mrs Gilbert laid her knitting * * * aside. “I’m so happy that you have found your work, son.” She looked around the room appraisingly. “Your furniture’s just lovely. I never seen anything like it, even in Louderback’s furniture store. What is it —mahogany?” “Mahogany, but hand rubbed. With oil, I guess.” “I still don’t understand,” remarked Mrs Gilbert, “what you want with six rooms and two servants.” “Oh, it’s not for myself, mother. I could do with a hall bedroom — goodness knows I lived in ’em long enough. But, for business reasons, I have to entertain. You know how

Charlie’s Mother Came to Town and Misunderstood the Big City in More Ways Than One.

dad used to send a mess of bullheads down to the liveryman? Because he bought feed from us? Same idea, but with city trimmings.” “I understand, son . . . And how do you get so tanned? You look fine.” “Golf —for business purposes again. I admit I like the game, too.” He grinned; his teeth were white against his dark skin. “Well, mother, since we’ve just two days, let’s get along. There’s a ball game you ought to see, and on the way I’ll ride you through the park. We’ll take in a show tonight. What do you say?” Two days later Mrs Gilbert was installed comfortably in her Pullman. “I declare,” she said to Charles, “yesterday and to-day seem like a dream, with theatre footlights and headwaiters and second base all mixed up.” She blinked rapidly. “Maybe when I .get back home I can straighten it out.” “I’m going to return your visit; when I can break away from the office.” Chuck kissed her good-bye. “Give dad a good report of me. I solemnly promise to write to him before the year’s out. Here’s some fruit and a couple of magazines.” “80-oard!” warned the conductor. / Chuck Gilbert let himself into apartment 613 and pitched the key onto the magazine table. Ethel sat in the living room with one shoe off and her foot tucked under her; Hyams sprawled on the davenport

reading a detective story magazine. “Hi, Chuck,” said Hyams. “Get along all right?” “Swell,” said Gilbert. “Tell you about it presently.” He went to a bedroom, got down a cab driver’s uniform from the top shelf and changed into it. The suit which he took off he hung carefully in the closet. , In the living room he said, “I don’t know, how I can ever thank you. You folks were swell. And I’ll pay you what I owe, though it’ll take a long time.” “Forget it, Chuck. We’ve been down on our luck, too.” “I won’t forget it. I filled your car with gas and oil and I’ll pay you two bucks a week on the loan. A big transportation executive can’t reneg on his dishonest debts.” He went out the back way and cut across lots toward the cab barns. It was a quarter to six and he was due to start working in fifteen minutes.