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While the Auto Waits

Short Stories


A Bird of Bagdad

A Blackjack Bargainer

A Call Loan

A Chaparral Christmas Gift

A Chaparral Prince

A Comedy in Rubber

A Cosmopolite in a Cafe

A Departmental Case

A Dinner at--------*

A Double-Dyed Deceiver

A Fog in Santone

A Harlem Tragedy

A Lickpenny Lover

A Little Local Colour

A Little Talk about Mobs

A Madison Square Arabian Night

A Matter of Mean Elevation

A Midsummer Knight's Dream

A Midsummer Masquerade

A Municipal Report

A Newspaper Story

A Night in New Arabia

A Philistine in Bohemia

A Poor Rule

A Ramble in Aphasia

A Retrieved Reformation

A Ruler of Men

A Sacrifice Hit

A Service of Love

A Snapshot at the President

A Strange Story

A Technical Error

A Tempered Wind

According to Their Lights

After Twenty Years

An Adjustment of Nature

An Afternoon Miracle

An Apology

An Unfinished Christmas Story

An Unfinished Story

Aristocracy Versus Hash

Art and the Bronco

At Arms With Morpheus

Babes in the Jungle


Between Rounds

Bexar Scrip No. 2692

Blind Man's Holiday

Brickdust Row

Buried Treasure

By Courier

Calloway's Code


Cherchez La Femme

Christmas by Injunction

Compliments of the Season

Confessions of a Humorist

Conscience in Art

Cupid a La Carte

Cupid's Exile Number Two


Dougherty's Eye-Opener

Elsie in New York

Extradited from Bohemia

Fickle Fortune or How Gladys Hustled

Friends in San Rosario

From Each According to His Ability

From the Cabby's Seat

Georgia's Ruling


He Also Serves

Hearts and Crosses

Hearts and Hands

Helping the Other Fellow

Holding Up a Train

Hostages to Momus

Hygeia at the Solito

Innocents of Broadway

Jeff Peters as a Personal Magnet

Jimmy Hayes and Muriel

Law and Order

Let Me Feel Your Pulse

Little Speck in Garnered Fruit

Lord Oakhurst's Curse

Lost on Dress Parade

Madame Bo-Peep, of the Ranches

Makes the Whole World Kin

Mammon and the Archer

Man About Town

Masters of Arts

Memoirs of a Yellow Dog

Modern Rural Sports

Money Maze

Nemesis and the Candy Man

New York by Camp Fire Light

Next to Reading Matter

No Story

October and June

On Behalf of the Management

One Dollar's Worth

One Thousand Dollars

Out of Nazareth

Past One at Rooney's


Proof of the Pudding

Psyche and the Pskyscraper

Queries and Answers

Roads of Destiny

Roses, Ruses and Romance

Rouge et Noir

Round the Circle

Rus in Urbe

Schools and Schools

Seats of the Haughty

Shearing the Wolf



Sisters of the Golden Circle


Sociology in Serge and Straw

Sound and Fury

Springtime a La Carte

Squaring the Circle

Strictly Business

Strictly Business

Suite Homes and Their Romance

Telemachus, Friend

The Admiral

The Adventures of Shamrock Jolnes

The Assessor of Success

The Atavism of John Tom Little Bear

The Badge of Policeman O'Roon

The Brief Debut of Tildy

The Buyer From Cactus City

The Caballero's Way

The Cactus

The Caliph and the Cad

The Caliph, Cupid and the Clock

The Call of the Tame

The Chair of Philanthromathematics

The Champion of the Weather

The Church with an Overshot-Wheel

The City of Dreadful Night

The Clarion Call

The Coming-Out of Maggie

The Complete Life of John Hopkins

The Cop and the Anthem

The Count and the Wedding Guest

The Country of Elusion

The Day Resurgent

The Day We Celebrate

The Defeat of the City

The Detective Detector

The Diamond of Kali

The Discounters of Money

The Dog and the Playlet

The Door of Unrest

The Dream

The Duel

The Duplicity of Hargraves

The Easter of the Soul

The Emancipation of Billy

The Enchanted Kiss

The Enchanted Profile

The Ethics of Pig

The Exact Science of Matrimony

The Ferry of Unfulfilment

The Fifth Wheel

The Flag Paramount

The Fool-Killer

The Foreign Policy of Company 99

The Fourth in Salvador

The Friendly Call

The Furnished Room

The Gift of the Magi

The Girl and the Graft

The Girl and the Habit

The Gold That Glittered

The Greater Coney

The Green Door

The Guardian of the Accolade

The Guilty Party - An East Side Tragedy

The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss

The Hand that Riles the World

The Handbook of Hymen

The Harbinger

The Head-Hunter

The Hiding of Black Bill

The Higher Abdication

The Higher Pragmatism

The Hypotheses of Failure

The Indian Summer of Dry Valley Johnson

The Lady Higher Up

The Last Leaf

The Last of the Troubadours

The Lonesome Road

The Lost Blend

The Lotus And The Bottle

The Love-Philtre of Ikey Schoenstein

The Making of a New Yorker

The Man Higher Up

The Marionettes

The Marquis and Miss Sally

The Marry Month of May

The Memento

The Missing Chord

The Moment of Victory

The Octopus Marooned

The Passing of Black Eagle

The Pendulum

The Phonograph and the Graft

The Pimienta Pancakes

The Plutonian Fire

The Poet and the Peasant

The Pride of the Cities

The Princess and the Puma

The Prisoner of Zembla

The Proem

The Purple Dress

The Ransom of Mack

The Ransom of Red Chief

The Rathskeller and the Rose

The Red Roses of Tonia

The Reformation of Calliope

The Remnants of the Code

The Renaissance at Charleroi

The Roads We Take

The Robe of Peace

The Romance of a Busy Broker

The Rose of Dixie

The Rubaiyat of a Scotch Highball

The Rubber Plant's Story

The Shamrock and the Palm

The Shocks of Doom

The Skylight Room

The Sleuths

The Snow Man

The Social Triangle

The Song and the Sergeant

The Sparrows in Madison Square

The Sphinx Apple

The Tale of a Tainted Tenner

The Theory and the Hound

The Thing's the Play

The Third Ingredient

The Trimmed Lamp

The Unknown Quantity

The Unprofitable Servant

The Venturers

The Vitagraphoscope

The Voice of the City

The Whirligig of Life

The World and the Door

Thimble, Thimble


To Him Who Waits

Tobin's Palm

Tommy's Burglar

Tracked to Doom

Transformation of Martin Burney

Transients in Arcadia

Two Recalls

Two Renegades

Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen

Ulysses and the Dogman

Vanity and Some Sables

What You Want

While the Auto Waits

Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking

Witches' Loaves

Promptly at the beginning of twilight, came
again to that quiet corner of that quiet, small park
the girl in gray. She sat upon a bench and read a
book, for there was yet to come a half hour in which
print could be accomplished.

To repeat: Her dress was gray, and plain enough
to mask its impeccancy of style and fit. A large-
meshed veil imprisoned her turban hat and a face
that shone through it with a calm and unconscious
beauty. She had come there at the same hour on the
day previous, and on the day before that; and there
was one who knew it.

The young man who knew it hovered near, relying
upon burnt sacrifices to the great joss, Luck. His
piety was rewarded, for, in turning a page, her book
slipped from her fingers and bounded from the bench
a full yard away.

The young man pounced upon it with instant avid-
ity, returning it to its owner with that air that seems
to flourish in parks and public places - a compound
of gallantry and hope, tempered with respect for the
policeman on the beat. In a pleasant voice, be risked
an inconsequent remark upon the weather that in-
troductory topic responsible for so much of the
world's unhappiness-and stood poised for a mo-
ment, awaiting his fate.

The girl looked him over leisurely; at his ordinary,
neat dress and his features distinguished by nothing
particular in the way of expression.

"You may sit down, if you like," she said, in a
full, deliberate contralto. "Really, I would like to
have you do so. The light is too bad for reading.
I would prefer to talk."

The vassal of Luck slid upon the seat by her side
with complaisance.

"Do you know," be said, speaking the formula
with which park chairmen open their meetings, "that
you are quite the stunningest girl I have seen in a
long time? I had my eye on you yesterday.
Didn't know somebody was bowled over by those
pretty lamps of yours, did you, honeysuckle?"

"Whoever you are," said the girl, in icy tones,
"you must remember that I am a lady. I will excuse
the remark you have just made because the mistake
was, doubtless, not an unnatural one -- in your circle.
I asked you to sit down; if the invitation must con-
stitute me your honeysuckle, consider it with-

"I earnestly beg your pardon," pleaded the young
ran. His expression of satisfaction had changed to
one of penitence and humility. It was my fault,
you know -I mean, there are girls in parks, you
know - that is, of course, you don't know, but -- "

"Abandon the subject, if you please. Of course
I know. Now, tell me about these people passing
and crowding, each way, along these paths. Where
are they going? Why do they hurry so? Are they

The young man had promptly abandoned his air
of coquetry. His cue was now for a waiting part;
he could not guess the role be would be expected to

"It is interesting to watch them," he replied, pos-
tulating her mood. "It is the wonderful drama of
life. Some are going to supper and some to -- er --
other places. One wonders what their histories are."

"I do not," said the girl; "I am not so inquisi-
tive. I come here to sit because here, only, can I be
tear the great, common, throbbing heart of hu-
manity. My part in life is cast where its beats are
never felt. Can you surmise why I spoke to you,
Mr. -- ?"

"Parkenstacker," supplied the young man. Then
be looked eager and hopeful.

"No," said the girl, holding up a slender finger,
and smiling slightly. "You would recognize it im-
mediately. It is impossible to keep one's name out of
print. Or even one's portrait. This veil and this
hat of my maid furnish me with an incog. You
should have seen the chauffeur stare at it when he
thought I did not see. Candidly, there are five or six
names that belong in the holy of holies, and mine, by
the accident of birth, is one of them. I spoke to you,
Mr. Stackenpot -- "

"Parkenstacker," corrected the young man, mod-

" -- Mr. Parkenstacker, because I wanted to talk,
for once, with a natural man -- one unspoiled by the
despicable gloss of wealth and supposed social su-
periority. Oh! you do not know how weary I am of
it -- money, money, money! And of the men who
surround me, dancing like little marionettes all cut by
the same pattern. I am sick of pleasure, of jewels,
of travel, of society, of luxuries of all kinds."

"I always had an idea," ventured the young man,
hesitatingly, "that money must be a pretty good

"A competence is to be desired. But when you
leave so many millions that -- !" She concluded
the sentence with a gesture of despair. "It is the mo-
otony of it" she continued, "that palls. Drives,
dinners, theatres, balls, suppers, with the gilding of
superfluous wealth over it all. Sometimes the very
tinkle of the ice in my champagne glass nearly drives
me mad."

Mr. Parkenstacker looked ingenuously interested.

"I have always liked," he said, "to read and hear
about the ways of wealthy and fashionable folks. I
suppose I am a bit of a snob. But I like to have my
information accurate. Now, I had formed the opin-
ion that champagne is cooled in the bottle and not by
placing ice in the glass."

The girl gave a musical laugh of genuine amuse-

"You should know," she explained, in an indul-
gent tone, "that we of the non-useful class depend
for our amusement upon departure from precedent.
Just now it is a fad to put ice in champagne. The
idea was originated by a visiting Prince of Tartary
while dining at the Waldorf. It will soon give way
to some other whim. Just as at a dinner party this
week on Madison Avenue a green kid glove was laid
by the plate of each guest to be put on and used while
eating olives."

"I see," admitted the young man, humbly.

"These special diversions of the inner circle do not
become familiar to the common public."

"Sometimes," continued the girl, acknowledging
his confession of error by a slight bow, "I have
thought that if I ever should love a man it would be
one of lowly station. One who is a worker and not a
drone. But, doubtless, the claims of caste and wealth
will prove stronger than my inclination. Just now
I am besieged by two. One is a Grand Duke of a
German principality. I think he has, or has bad, a
wife, somewhere, driven mad by his intemperance and
cruelty. The other is an English Marquis, so cold
and mercenary that I even prefer the diabolism of the
Duke. What is it that impels me to tell you these
things, Mr. Packenstacker?

"Parkenstacker," breathed the young man. "In-
deed, you cannot know how much I appreciate your

The girl contemplated him with the calm, imper-
sonal regard that befitted the difference in their sta-

"What is your line of business, Mr. Parken-
stacker?" she asked.

"A very humble one. But I hope to rise in the
world. Were you really in earnest when you said
that you could love a man of lowly position?"

"Indeed I was. But I said 'might.' There is the
Grand Duke and the Marquis, you know. Yes; no
calling could be too humble were the man what I
would wish him to be."

"I work," declared Mr. Parkenstacker, "in a res-

The girl shrank slightly.

"Not as a waiter?" she said, a little imploringly.
"Labor is noble, but personal attendance, you
know -- valets and -- "

"I am not a waiter. I am cashier in" -- on the
street they faced that bounded the opposite side of
the park was the brilliant electric sign "RESTAU-
RANT" -- "I am cashier in that restaurant you am

The girl consulted a tiny watch set in a bracelet of
rich design upon her left wrist, and rose, hurriedly.
She thrust her book into a glittering reticule sus-
pended from her waist, for which, however, the book
was too large.

"Why are you not at work?" she asked.

"I am on the night turn," said the young man;
it is yet an hour before my period begins. May I
not hope to see you again?"

"I do not know. Perhaps - but the whim may
not seize me again. I must go quickly now. There
is a dinner, and a box at the play -- and, oh! the
same old round. Perhaps you noticed an automobile
at the upper corner of the park as you came. One
with a white body

"And red running gear?" asked the young man,
knitting his brows reflectively.

"Yes. I always come in that. Pierre waits for
me there. He supposes me to be shopping in the de-
partment store across the square. Conceive of the
bondage of the life wherein we must deceive even our
chauffeurs. Good-night."

"But it is dark now," said Mr. Parkenstacker,
"and the park is full of rude men. May I not
walk -- "

"If you have the slightest regard for my wishes,"
said the girl, firmly, "you will remain at this bench
for ten minutes after I have left. I do not mean to
accuse you, but you are probably aware that autos
generally bear the monogram of their owner. Again,

Swift and stately she moved away through the
dusk. The young man watched her graceful form
as she reached the pavement at the park's edge, and
turned up along it toward the corner where stood the
automobile. Then he treacherously and unhesitat-
ingly began to dodge and skim among the park trees
and shrubbery in a course parallel to her route, keep-
ing her well in sight

When she reached the corner she turned her head
to glance at the motor car, and then passed it, con
tinuing on across the street. Sheltered behind a con-
venient standing cab, the young man followed her
movements closely with his eyes. Passing down the
sidewalk of the street opposite the park, she entered
the restaurant with the blazing sign. The place was
one of those frankly glaring establishments, all white,
paint and glass, where one may dine cheaply and
conspicuously. The girl penetrated the restaurant to
some retreat at its rear, whence she quickly emerged
without her bat and veil.

The cashier's desk was well to the front. A red-
head girl an the stool climbed down, glancing
pointedly at the clock as she did so. The girl in
gray mounted in her place.

The young man thrust his hands into his pockets
and walked slowly back along the sidewalk. At the
corner his foot struck a small, paper-covered volume
lying there, sending it sliding to the edge of the
turf. By its picturesque cover he recognized it as
the book the girl had been reading. He picked it up
carelessly, and saw that its title was "New Arabian
Nights," the author being of the name of Stevenson.
He dropped it again upon the grass, and lounged,
irresolute, for a minute. Then he stepped into the
automobile, reclined upon the cushions, and said two
words to the chauffeur:

"Club, Henri."

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