幼托The Coming-Out of Maggie

2021年1月20日发(作者：flash是什么意思)
The Coming-Out of Maggie
Every
Saturday
night
the
Clover
Leaf
Social
Club
gave
a
hop
in the hall of the Give and Take Athletic Association on the
East Side. In order to attend one of these dances you must be
a
member
of
the
Give
and
Take--or,
if
you
belong
to
the
division
that
starts
off
with
the
right
foot
in
waltzing,
you must work
in Rhinegold's paper-box factory. Still, any Clover Leaf was
privileged
to escort
or
be
escorted
by
an
outsider
to
a
single
dance.
But
mostly
each
Give
and
Take
brought
the
paper-box
girl
that
he
affected;
and
few
strangers
could
boast
of
having
shaken
a foot at the regular hops.
Maggie
Toole,
on
account
of
her
dull
eyes,
broad
mouth
and
left-
handed
style
of
footwork
in
the
twostep,
went
to
the
dances
with
Anna McCarty and her
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side
in the
factory,
and
were
the
greatest chums
ever. So
Anna
always made Jimmy Burns take her by Maggie's house every
Saturday night so that her friend could go to the dance with
them.
The Give and Take Athletic Association lived up to its name.
The hall of the association in Orchard street was fitted out
with muscle- making inventions. With the fibres thus builded
up
the
members
were
wont
to
engage
the
police
and rival
social
and
athletic
organisations
in
joyous
combat.
Between
these
more
serious occupations the Saturday night hop with the paper-box
factory
girls
came
as
a
refining
influence
and
as
an
efficient
screen.
For
sometimes
the
tip
went
'round,
and
if
you
were
among
the elect
that
tiptoed
up the
dark
back stairway
you might
see
as neat and satisfying a little welter- weight affair to a
finish as ever happened inside the ropes.
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On Saturdays Rhinegold's paper-box factory closed at 3 P. M.
On
one
such
afternoon
Anna
and
Maggie
walked
homeward
together.
At
Maggie's
door
Anna
said,
as
usual:

ready
at
seven,
sharp,
Mag; and Jimmy and me'll come by for you.
But
what
was
this?
Instead
of
the
customary
humble
and
grateful
thanks from the non-escorted one there was to be perceived a
high-
poised
head,
a
prideful
dimpling
at
the
corners
of
a
broad
mouth, and almost a sparkle in a dull brown eye.

Anna,
said
Maggie;

you
and
Jimmy
needn't
bother
to- night. I've a gentleman friend that's coming 'round to
escort me to the hop.
The
comely
Anna
pounced
upon
her
friend,
shook
her,
chided
and
beseeched
her.
Maggie
Toole
catch
a
fellow!
Plain,
dear,
loyal,
unattractive Maggie, so sweet as a chum, so unsought for a
two-step
or
a
moonlit
bench
in
the
little
park.
How
was
it?
When
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did it happen? Who was it?

the first grapes she had gathered in Cupid's vineyard.
swell all right. He's two inches taller than Jimmy, and an
up- to-date dresser. I'll introduce him, Anna, just as soon as
we get to the hall.
Anna
and
Jimmy
were
among
the
first
Clover
Leafs
to
arrive
that
evening. Anna's eyes were brightly fixed upon the door of the
hall to catch the first glimpse of her friend's
At
8:30
Miss
Toole
swept
into
the
hall
with
her
escort.
Quickly
her triumphant eye discovered her chum under the wing of her
faithful Jimmy.

fellow? well, I guess! Style? Look at 'um.

as
far
as
you
like,
said
Jimmy,
with
sandpaper
in
his
voice.
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him
out
if
you
want
him.
These
new
guys
always
win
out
with
the
push.
Don't
mind
me.
He
don't
squeeze
all
the
limes,
I
guess.
Huh!

fellow she ever had. Oh, here they come.
Across
the
floor
Maggie
sailed
like
a
coquettish
yacht
convoyed
by a stately cruiser. And truly, her companion justified the
encomiums
of
the
faithful
chum.
He
stood
two
inches
taller
than
the average Give and Take athlete; his dark hair curled; his
eyes and his teeth flashed whenever he bestowed his frequent
smiles.
The
young
men of
the Clover
Leaf
Club
pinned not
their
faith
to
the
graces
of
person
as
much
as
they
did
to
its
prowess,
its achievements in hand-to-hand conflicts, and its
preservation
from
the
legal
duress
that
constantly
menaced
it.
The
member
of
the
association
who
would
bind
a
paperbox
maiden
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to
his
conquering
chariot
scorned
to
employ
Beau
Brumme1
airs.
They were not considered honourable methods of warfare. The
swelling biceps, the coat straining at its buttons over the
chest,
the
air
of
conscious
conviction
of
the
supereminence
of
the male in the cosmogony of creation, even a calm display of
bow legs as subduing and enchanting agents in the gentle
tourneys
of
Cupid--these
were
the
approved
arms
and
ammunition
of the Clover Leaf gallants. They viewed, then, genuflexions
and alluring poses of this visitor with their chins at a new
angle.

friend
of
mine,
Mr.
Terry
O'Sullivan,
was
Maggie's
formula
of introduction. She led him around the room, presenting him
to each new- arriving Clover Leaf. Almost was she pretty now,
with
the
unique
luminosity
in
her
eyes
that
comes
to
a
girl
with
her first suitor and a kitten with its first mouse.
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round among the paper-box girls.
floor-walker
indifferent contempt.
Usually at the weekly hops Maggie kept a spot on the wall warm
with her back. She felt and showed so much gratitude whenever
a self- sacrificing partner invited her to dance that his
pleasure
was
cheapened
and
diminished.
She
had
even
grown
used
to noticing Anna joggle the reluctant Jimmy with her elbow as
a
signal
for
him
to
invite
her
chum
to
walk
over
his
feet
through
a two-step.
But to-night the pumpkin had turned to a coach and six. Terry
O'Sullivan was a victorious Prince Charming, and Maggie Toole
winged her first butterfly flight. And though our tropes of
fairyland
be
mixed
with
those
of
entomology
they
shall
not
spill
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one drop of ambrosia from the rose-crowned melody of Maggie's
one perfect night.
The girls besieged her for introductions to her
Clover Leaf young men, after two years of blindness, suddenly
perceived charms in Miss Toole. They flexed their compelling
muscles before her and bespoke her for the dance.
Thus she scored; but to Terry O'Sullivan the honours of the
evening
fell
thick and fast. He
shook
his
curls;
he
smiled
and
went easily through the seven motions for acquiring grace in
your own room before an open window ten minutes each day. He
danced like a faun; he introduced manner and style and
atmosphere;
his
words
came
trippingly
upon
his
tongue,
and--he
waltzed twice in succession with the paper- box girl that
Dempsey Donovan brought.
Dempsey
was
the
leader
of
the
association.
He
wore
a
dress
suit,
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and could chin the bar twice with one hand. He was one of
Mike
trouble. No cop dared to arrest him. Whenever be broke a
pushcart
man's
head
or
shot
a
member
of
the
Heinrick
B.
Sweeney
Outing and Literary Association in the kneecap, an officer
would drop around and say:

whin ye have time, Dempsey, me boy.
But there would be sundry gentlemen there with large gold fob
chains
and
black
cigars;
and
somebody
would
tell
a
funny
story,
and then Dempsey would go back and work half an hour with the
sixpound dumbbells. So, doing a tight-rope act on a wire
stretched across
Niagara was
a
safe
terpsichorean
performance
compared
with
waltzing
twice
with
Dempsey
Donovan's
paper-box
girl. At 10 o'clock the jolly round face of
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