THE BIG, FAT LUMMOX
In the morning sunshine, Mrs.Baxter stood at the top of the steps of the front porch, addressing her son, who listened impatiently and edged himself a little nearer the gate every time he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
``Willie,'' she said, ``you must really pay some attention to the laws of health, or you'll never live to be an old man.''
``I don't want to live to be an old man,'' said William, earnestly.``I'd rather do what I please now and die a little sooner.''
``You talk very foolishly,'' his mother returned.
``Either come back and put on some heavier THINGS or take your overcoat.''
``My overcoat!'' William groaned.``They'd think I was a lunatic, carrying an overcoat in August!''
``Not to a picnic,'' she said.
``Mother, it isn't a picnic, I've told you a hunderd times! You think it's one those ole-
fashion things YOU used to go to--sit on the damp ground and eat sardines with ants all over 'em?
This isn't anything like that; we just go out on the trolley to this farm-house and have noon dinner, and dance all afternoon, and have supper, and then come home on the trolley.I guess we'd hardly of got up anything as out o' date as a picnic in honor of Miss PRATT!''
Mrs.Baxter seemed unimpressed.
``It doesn't matter whether you call it a picnic or not, Willie.It will be cool on the open trolley-
car coming home, especially with only those white trousers on--''
``Ye gods!'' he cried.``I've got other things on besides my trousers! I wish you wouldn't always act as if I was a perfect child! Good heavens! isn't a person my age supposed to know how much clothes to wear?''
``Well, if he is,'' she returned, ``it's a mere supposition and not founded on fact.Don't get so excited, Willie, please; but you'll either have to give up the picnic or come in and ch--''
``Change my `things'!'' he wailed.``I can't change my `things'! I've got just twenty minutes to get to May Parcher's--the crowd meets there, and they're goin' to take the trolley in front the Parchers' at exactly a quarter after 'leven.PLEASE don't keep me any longer, mother --I GOT to go!''
She stepped into the hall and returned immediately.``Here's your overcoat, Willie.''
His expression was of despair.``They'll think I'm a lunatic and they'll say so before everybody --and I don't blame 'em! Overcoat on a hot day like this! Except me, I don't suppose there was ever anybody lived in the world and got to be going on eighteen years old and had to carry his silly old overcoat around with him in August--because his mother made him!''
``Willie,'' said Mrs.Baxter, ``you don't know how many thousands and thousands of mothers for thousands and thousands of years have kept their sons from taking thousands and thousands of colds--just this way!''
He moaned.``Well, and I got to be called a lunatic just because you're nervous, I s'pose.All right!''
She hung it upon his arm, kissed him; and he departed in a desperate manner.
However, having worn his tragic face for three blocks, he halted before a corner drug-store, and permitted his expression to improve as he gazed upon the window display of My Little Sweetheart All-Tobacco Cuban Cigarettes, the Package of Twenty for Ten Cents.William was not a smoker--that is to say, he had made the usual boyhood experiments, finding them discouraging;
and though at times he considered it humorously man-about-town to say to a smoking friend, ``Well, _I_'ll tackle one o' your ole coffin-nails,'' he had never made a purchase of tobacco in his life.
But it struck him now that it would be rather debonair to disport himself with a package of Little Sweethearts upon the excursion.
And the name! It thrilled him inexpressibly, bringing a tenderness into his eyes and a glow into his bosom.He felt that when he should smoke a Little Sweetheart it would be a tribute to the ineffable visitor for whom this party was being given--it would bring her closer to him.
His young brow grew almost stern with determination, for he made up his mind, on the spot, that he would smoke oftener in the future--he would become a confirmed smoker, and all his life he would smoke My Little Sweetheart All-Tobacco Cuban Cigarettes.
He entered and managed to make his purchase in a matter-of-fact way, as if he were doing something quite unemotional; then he said to the clerk:
``Oh, by the by--ah--''
The clerk stared.``Well, what else?''
``I mean,'' said William, hurriedly, ``there's something I wanted to 'tend to, now I happen to be here.I was on my way to take this overcoat to--to get something altered at the tailor's for next winter.'Course I wouldn't want it till winter, but I thought I might as well get it DONE.''
He paused, laughing carelessly, for greater plaus-
ibility.``I thought he'd prob'ly want lots of time on the job--he's a slow worker, I've noticed --and so I decided I might just as well go ahead and let him get at it.Well, so I was on my way there, but I just noticed I only got about six minutes more to get to a mighty important engagement I got this morning, and I'd like to leave it here and come by and get it on my way home, this evening.''
``Sure,'' said the clerk.``Hang it on that hook inside the p'scription-counter.There's one there already, b'longs to your friend, that young Bullitt fella.He was in here awhile ago and said he wanted to leave his because he didn't have time to take it to be pressed in time for next winter.Then he went on and joined that crowd in Mr.Parcher's yard, around the corner, that's goin' on a trolley-party.I says, `I betcher mother maje carry it,' and he says, `Oh no.Oh no,'
he says.`Honest, I was goin' to get it pressed!'
You can hang yours on the same nail.''
