Ladies In The Parlor by Jim Tully Page A

toward her, while she pushed against the wall, her body a-tremble with what Mr. Skinner thought was fear.
    “Why, my dear child—you wouldn’t think that I would hurt you, would you?” He touched her lightly. She swayed and fell in his arms. In her helpless position, her breast pressed firmly against him. The perfume of her body went to his ancient nostrils, and roused desire in him, and nothing else.
    Feeling that it might be too great a strain for Mr. Skinner to drag her to the bed, she rushed blindly toward it, with her hands over her eyes, and apparently sobbing.
    As he drew near she said plaintively, “My mother always told me to be careful—and I know you won’t—I’m so young.”
    Her skirt, by design, was above her knees, and revealed silk-clad legs, more perfect in contour than many which greater men than Mr. Skinner had separated.
    He touched one of her knees. It shocked her so much that she fell backward on the bed.
    The winds of passion howled through Mr. Skinner. He fussed with Leora until nearly exhausted.
    Then she got up.
    The old man had never met such a girl. Neither had he ever engaged in such a battle. Even had he been a student of genuine acting, he would have been in no condition to appreciate it. Instead he floundered about the room, driven by an urge greater than himself.
    At last he coaxed her to sit on the bed again.
    “You’ll behave if I do,” she pleaded.
    “Certainly, my precious,” he panted, “I wouldn’t harm a hair of your head.”
    “It’s not my hair I’m worried about,” she said innocently,— ”I promised my mother I’d always be a good girl.”
    “Why you can be a good girl, dear—such ideas are old-fashioned,” explained the veteran in the army of sex.
    “My mother didn’t think so—she told me to always guard my honor—and I promised.”
    Leora began to cry.
    “Now, come dear, come, come, you can trust me.” He touched her cautiously.
    “I wouldn’t have come here, but I knew Alice, and I told her how poor my mother was, and how much she needed a hundred dollars. She told me about Mrs. Rosenbloom running this school for girls, and that I might get work as a maid.”
    Mr. Skinner shook his head at such innocence.
    “Suppose I offered you a hundred dollars.”
    “Oh, Mother wouldn’t let me take it—she’d scold terribly.”
    He placed the money in her hand while she protested weakly.
    She clutched the money while the ruthless Mr. Skinner attempted to despoil her. Sobbing quietly when he rose, she said pleadingly, “Please don’t tell Mrs. Rosenbloom what happened—she may not engage me.”
    Manfully, Mr. Skinner promised. When Leora entered the parlor later with Mr. Skinner, June was at the piano, playing and singing. Her low voice could be heard

    Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam,
    Where the deer and the antelope play—
    Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
    And the skies are not cloudy all day

    The girls induced Mr. Skinner to buy a bottle of champagne. They now gathered, with their withered benefactor, around June.
    “I love that song,” said Mary Ellen, her brown eyes vivid with joy, as she sang with a rich voice,

    Oft times at night, when summers are bright,
    By the light of the twinkling stars
    I’ve stood here amazed, and asked as I gazed,
    Does their glory exceed that of ours.

    Mary Ellen put her arm around Mr. Skinner, and turned to the girls and said, “Now the chorus, all together.”
    A deeper, richer voice than Mary Ellen’s joined
    Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam, Where the deer and the antelope play—Where seldom is heard a discouraging word, And the skies are not cloudy all day.
    The girls turned and applauded Mother Rosenbloom as she finished singing.
    Upon her face was joy, and in her eyes were tears. Alice drew Leora aside.
    “Was everything all right?” she asked.
    “Yes,” replied Leora, “everything is in his head.” Then she smiled, “but he gave me a hundred dollars.”
    “Did he