Tales of the Jazz Age | Page 8

Jelly-bean."
Then she stepped inside and left him wide-eyed upon the porch.

III
At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the
women's dressing-room and, each one pairing with a coated beau like
dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with
sleepy happy laughter--through the door into the dark where autos
backed and snorted and parties called to one another and gathered
around the water-cooler.
Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at eleven;
then Clark had gone in to dance. So, seeking him, Jim wandered into
the soft-drink stand that had once been a bar. The room was deserted
except for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two boys lazily
fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables. Jim was about to leave
when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark looked up.
"Hi, Jim" he commanded. "C'mon over and help us with this bottle. I
guess there's not much left, but there's one all around."
Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were

lolling and laughing in the doorway. Nancy caught Jim's eye and
winked at him humorously.
They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited
for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned his eyes
on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the two boys at
the next table.
"Bring them over here," suggested Clark.
Joe looked around.
"We don't want to draw a crowd. It's against club rules.
"Nobody's around," insisted Clark, "except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up
and down, like a wild-man trying find out who let all the gasolene out
of his car."
There was a general laugh.
"I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park
when she's around."
"O Nancy, Mr. Taylor's looking for you!"
Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. "I haven't
seen his silly little flivver in two weeks."
Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of uncertain
age standing in the doorway.
Clark's voice punctuated the embarrassment.
"Won't you join us Mr. Taylor?"
"Thanks."
Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. "Have to, I
guess. I'm waiting till they dig me up some gasolene. Somebody got

funny with my car."
His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim
wondered what he had heard from the doorway--tried to remember
what had been said.
"I'm right to-night," Nancy sang out, "and my four bits is in the ring."
"Faded!" snapped Taylor suddenly.
"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot craps!" Nancy was overjoyed
to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They
had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely
discouraged a series of rather pointed advances.
"All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven." Nancy
was cooing to the dice. She rattled them with a brave underhand
flourish, and rolled them out on the table.
"Ah-h! I suspected it. And now again with the dollar up."
Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it
personal, and after each success Jim watched triumph flutter across her
face. She was doubling with each throw--such luck could scarcely last.
"Better go easy," he cautioned her timidly.
"Ah, but watch this one," she whispered. It was eight on the dice and
she called her number.
"Little Ada, this time we're going South."
Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and
half-hysterical, but her luck was holding.
She drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming
with his fingers on the table but he was in to stay.
Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them avidly.
He shot in silence, and in the hush of excitement the clatter of one pass

after another on the table was the only sound.
Now Nancy had the dice again, but her luck had broken. An hour
passed. Back and forth it went. Taylor had been at it again--and again
and again. They were even at last--Nancy lost her ultimate five dollars.
"Will you take my check," she said quickly, "for fifty, and we'll shoot it
all?" Her voice was a little unsteady and her hand shook as she reached
to the money.
Clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with Joe Ewing.
Taylor shot again. He had Nancy's check.
"How 'bout another?" she said wildly. "Jes' any bank'll do--money
everywhere as a matter of fact."
Jim understood---the "good old corn" he had given her--the "good old
corn" she had taken since. He wished he dared