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Updated: May 12, 2025
She would Frisk his Wardrobe every day or two, looking for Evidence, and he would compel her to Itemize her Accounts so that he might be sure she was not giving Jewelry to the Iceman. Then when he Found it, he would Mark it "Rot!" and put it where She could find it, and then she would Weep and write Letters to Lady Authors telling them how Sad and Lonely she was.
For the thousandth time he saw before him the revengeful face of a woman a face now full of fury a face which he had once thought rarely pretty, rarely coy, gentle, and submissive. What could be done? Oh! what could be done? He heard the iceman stop at the door, curiously noted his slow, contented tread as he trudged round to the kitchen to leave the block of ice.
Tell her right at the start the worst about the butcher, and the grocer, and the iceman, and the milkman, and the plumber, and the gas-meter that they want their money and that it has to come out of that little roll of bills. Then give her enough to pay them, even if you have to grab for your lunch from a high stool.
Widdup, cheerfully. "Miss Coulson, she ran away with the iceman last night, sir!" I never cared especially for feuds, believing them to be even more overrated products of our country than grapefruit, scrapple, or honeymoons. Nevertheless, if I may be allowed, I will tell you of an Indian Territory feud of which I was press-agent, camp-follower, and inaccessory during the fact.
I make six false starts, bite all my best finger-nails, screw my hair into a wilderness of cork-screws and give it up. No doubt a real Lady Writer could write on, unruffled and unhearing, while the iceman squashed the cucumbers, and the roast burned to a frazzle, and the Spalpeens perished of hunger.
After dinner Katy would show him the new patch in her crazy quilt that the iceman had cut for her off the end of his four-in-hand. At half-past seven they would spread newspapers over the furniture to catch the pieces of plastering that fell when the fat man in the flat overhead began to take his physical culture exercises.
"I want a job," stated Farr, curtly. "I want to work for you. Give me a place on one of your carts in the city." "Say, look here," blurted the other man, frankly astonished, "you look more like a gent than an iceman!" "No matter what I look like. The main question is, can I lug ice? Feel of my muscle!" "It may be a poor outlook for your pay working for me," warned the proprietor.
He drove along in angry silence and they left the car together at the Trelawny Apartments. The car had made a detour in reaching the curb avoiding a white wagon at the rear of which an iceman was briskly pecking in twain a cake of ice. The girl glanced sharply at the man and turned her head when she reached the sidewalk in order to survey him more closely.
"I've heard you make up poetry worth ten times that. Don't you remember that little sonnet you once composed, entitled 'Who Put Ink in Willie's Shoes? It was great, grand, sublime!" "I never wrote such a sonnet!" cried Songbird. "Ink in shoes, indeed! Tom, you don't know real poetry when you see it!" "That's a fact, I don't. But, say, what's on the carpet, as the iceman said to the thrush?"
"Say, I heard something about that!" cried the iceman, displaying prompt interest and admiration. "The boys said it was good work." "I mention it merely to put myself right with you." "Then say on ahead, my friend!" "Do you tell me you can't make a go of this?" "I'm afraid I can't. It's a half-mile haul for me to the nearest siding.
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