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Gangelin, Paul; Hanson, Earl; Gregory, Horace (ed.) / The Wisconsin literary magazine
Volume XXI, Number 1 (October 1921)

Rockwell, Katherine
A song,   p. 5


Page 5

WISCONSIN LITE
And in about two weeks I'll strike some place where
nobody knows me. And 1'11 drink, and it will be
the same old story all over again. Nobody knows
me, and I don't care."
The boy was a little embarrassed. He drew his
arm romr around her.
"Why do you suppose I'm telling you this?" she
continued. "Because you don't know me. You
don't know who I am, nor does anyone else here.
But snap out of it and take me back, Red. Dolly
will be waiting. Or I suppose I'll have to kiss you
a half-dozen times before you'll drive back."
"Are you going back to Chicago on the nine o'clock
train?"
"Yes. You bet. Those men we were dancing
with want us to stay until twelve or one, and then
drive us to Chicago. All the old stuff about their
big car, and the cottage on the lake, and good stuff
to drink. Why do men always use the same line?
But Dolly and I are going back on the train, don't
worry. I can't see myself walking back to Chicago
at four A. M. Drive us back! They're all alike.
Well, Red, pep up, or we'll miss that train."
She did kiss him a half-dozen times before they
started back. Not because the boy insisted, but she
liked him. He was different, somehow, from the men
she knew, the greasy, pop-eyed kind.
The boy danced with her again when they reached
the inn. Slowly the sad look left her eyes, and she
was the same laughing girl he had taken out. But
the black-haired man besieged her, and she left the
boy to dance with him.
The boy sat at the table and watched her. She
smiled at him at first, but seemed to forget him later.
He watched her dance, and watched her drink, for
the black-haired man had her glass refilled often.
Once more the boy danced with her.
"It's nearly train time," he told her. "Are you
pulling out?"
'RARY MAGAZINE                               5
"I guess so. After the next dance. Say, you do
like to shimmy, you devil." And she laughed again
and again.
but sne did not leave after the next dance. She
danced on with the black-haired man, and drank
with him. The boy watched them. He saw the man
talk to her softly, continuously. Twice, while danc-
ing in the corner, he saw the man kiss her. When
the train whistled into the station she seemed to hesi-
tate, but the black-haired man whirled her away and
again she danced and laughed, and the train pulled
out.
She came to the boy's table after that dance.
"Hello, Red, who died?"
"Oh, hell! I thought you were going back on the
train."
"Now, now. Don't be nasty. Put his little
dimples in and smile for the lady. You don't under-
stand, Red. The most wonderful Marmon,-and
they have everything at their cottage. Three bottles
of champagne."
"I think you're foolish."
She laughed, almost hysterically, for she had had
many drinks. The black-haired man stood in the
door and waited for her.
"You're a good kid, Red, but you don't under-
stand. It's the car, and the champagne. And he's
marvelously goodlooking."
The man at the door was impatient. She got up
to leave.
"Besides, Red," she said, "nobody knows me here!"
At the door she turned and threw back a kiss, and
he heard her laugh long after the door was shut.
There was the purring of a powerful car and she was
gone.
The boy sat and smoked his pipe, while the lake
breeze ruffled his hair. The crowd was hilarious, for
it was Labor Day.
A Song
KATHERINE ROCKWELL.
All through the cool clear mom I sang
A song, my love, to thee,
And in the twi-light soft, I wrote
It down for you to see:
And through the dusk I saw you come,
You nodded and passed by;
With fingers slow I tore my song
And hoped that love would die.
October, 1921


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