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A Samaritan, a Pharisee, a man and a policeman who were first on the spot lifted Banker McRamsey and carried him into Hinkle's restaurant. When the aged but indestructible banker opened his eyes he saw a beautiful vision bending over him with a pitiful, tender smile, bathing his forehead with beef tea and chafing his hands with something frappe out of a chafing-dish. Mr.
She was expected to sell worthless articles to nobs and snobs at exorbitant prices. The proceeds of the bazaar were to be used for giving the poor children of the slums a Christmas din Say! did you ever wonder where they get the other 364? Miss McRamsey beautiful, palpitating, excited, charming, radiant fluttered about in her booth.
And they're awfully good, Hinkle; I know I'll have a swell time. You owe me nine-sixty-two and a half for the week. Cut out the half if it hurts you, Hinkle." And they did. Miss Merriam became Miss Rosa McRamsey. And she graced the transition. Beauty is only skin-deep, but the nerves lie very near to the skin.
Nerve but just here will you oblige by perusing again the quotation with which this story begins? The McRamseys poured out money like domestic champagne to polish their adopted one. Milliners, dancing masters and private tutors got it. Miss er McRamsey was grateful, loving, and tried to forget Hinkle's.
The next day he brought Mrs. McRamsey down to see her. The old couple were childless they had only a married daughter living in Brooklyn. To make a short story shorter, the beautiful cashier won the hearts of the good old couple. They came to Hinkle's again and again; they invited her to their old-fashioned but splendid home in one of the East Seventies.
McRamsey sighed, lost a vest button, gazed with deep gratitude upon his fair preserveress, and then recovered consciousness. To the Seaside Library all who are anticipating a romance! Banker McRamsey had an aged and respected wife, and his sentiments toward Miss Merriam were fatherly. He talked to her for half an hour with interest not the kind that went with his talks during business hours.
An imitation brass network, with a little arched opening, fenced her in. Along came the Earl, assured, delicate, accurate, admiring admiring greatly, and faced the open wicket. "You look chawming, you know 'pon my word you do my deah," he said, beguilingly. Miss McRamsey whirled around. "Cut that joshing out," she said, coolly and briskly. "Who do you think you are talking to? Your check, please.
Oh, Lordy! Patrons of the bazaar became aware of a commotion and pressed around a certain booth. The Earl of Hitesbury stood near by pulling a pale blond and puzzled whisker. "Miss McRamsey has fainted," some one explained. He had lunched in his favorite corner of a Broadway hotel, and was returning to his office when his feet became entangled in the lure of the vernal coquette.
But you will surely remember the evening when the Daughters of Benevolence held their bazaar in the W f-A a Hotel. For you were there, and you wrote a note to Fannie on the hotel paper, and mailed it, just to show her that you did not? Very well; that was the evening the baby was sick, of course. At the bazaar the McRamseys were prominent. Miss Mer er McRamsey was exquisitely beautiful.
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