Athalie

There was a suffocating stench of cabbage in hallway and corridor as

usual when Athalie came in that evening. She paused to rest a tired

foot on the first step of the stairway, for a moment or two, quietly

breathing her fatigue, then addressed herself to the monotonous labour

before her, which was to climb five flights of unventilated stairs,

let herself into the tiny apartment with her latch-key, and

immediately begin her part in preparing the evening meal for three.

Doris, now twenty-one, sprawled on a lounge in her faded wrapper

reading an evening paper. Catharine, a year younger, stood by a

bureau, some drawers of which had been pulled out, sorting over odds

and ends of crumpled finery.

"Well," remarked Doris to Athalie, as she came in, "what do you

know?"

"Nothing," said Athalie listlessly.

Doris rattled the evening paper: "Gee!" she commented, "it's getting

to be something fierce--all these young girls disappearing! Here's

another--they can't account for it; her parents say she had no love

affair--" And she began to read the account aloud while Catharine

continued to sort ribbons and Athalie dropped into a big, shabby

chair, legs extended, arms pendant.

When Doris finished reading she tossed the paper over to Athalie who

let it slide from her knees to the floor.

"Her picture is there," said Doris. "She isn't pretty."

"Isn't she?" yawned Athalie.

Catharine jerked open another drawer: "It's always a man's doing. You

bet they'll find that some fellow had her on a string. What idiots

girls are!"

"I should worry," remarked Doris. "Any fresh young man who tries to

get me jingled will wish he hadn't."

"Don't talk that way," remonstrated Athalie.

"What way?"

"That slangy way you think is smart. What's the use of letting down

when you know better."

"What's the use of keeping up on fifteen per? I could do the Gladys to

any Percy on fifty. My talk suits my wages--and it suits me, too....

God!--I suppose it's fried ham again to-night," she added, jumping up

and walking into the kitchenette. And, pausing to look back at her

sisters: "If any Johnny asks me to-night I'll go!--I'm that hungry for

real food."

"Don't be a fool," snapped Catharine.

Athalie glanced at the alarm clock, passed her hands wearily across

her eyes, and rose: "It's after six, Doris. You haven't time for

anything very much." And she went into the kitchenette.