THE WEBER LITERARY JOURNAL Don with his long legs and brisk steps, soon covered the six short blocks to Slim's place and forgot the unpleasant evening by dancing to the tune of "It Ain't Going to Rain No More." For some time after Don had left, Mary sat before the fire and thought over the occurences of the evening. She didn't believe what Don had said about having to play jazz to be popular, since cheap things were cheap no matter how they were played. There was something wrong with Don. He had never talked like that before. He said that Nell Smith was "Some Baby!" She was such a silly thing. Always so conspicuous with her short skirts and darkened lashes. All the boys liked it. It didn't take brains to apply a new drug store complexion, a few words added to her vocabulary, and a new syncopation, and Mary could beat Nell at her own game. If Don was the object Nell was after, she would be fooled. Before Mary had gone upstairs, her plans had all been made. The day before Christmas came and the good women had worked hard to decorate the amusement hall of the church. Holly wreaths had been hung over the pictures of the departed ancestors and no one had been hurt, notwithstanding the fact that many fat women had made journeys to the top of the step-ladder. Miss Jones, the newspaper of the town, hurt the feelings of Mrs. Bentley who wanted to put a piece of mistletoe over the picture of the Ladies' Chorus. They were all good looking women and of marriageable age. Now in all the glory of Christmas, the hall was ready for the entertainment. Seven-thirty came along and the crowd began to gather: groups of weary looking mothers and frisky children came; groups of men who, most likely, had expressed the desire to stay at home, were lagging in; and groups of giggling flappers and boys came walking in. At seven forty-five Don Harris and his mother came in and sat well toward the front. When they were seated his mother said, "I hear that Mary Forrest is to play a solo to-night." "Yes, so she told me," muttered Don. "If we had more girls like Mary, the younger generation would be better off." The audience was hushed and Mr. Jones announced that the Ladies' Chorus would give a song entitled, "All Thru the Night." 16 THE WEBER LITERARY JOURNAL Little Milly Black recited "The Night Before Christmas," then followed a small play of some kind in which the children were made extremely happy by dear old Santy. "The next number on the program," announced Mr. Jones, when the applause had died down, "is a piano selection by Mary Forrest." Don was wondering what she would play and just then the curtains parted. Everyone shifted around to see the stage but nothing was there. Then a young girl appeared. At a glance no one would have recognized Mary Forrest. Then the truth was revealed; the audience was shocked. The new Mary wore skirts above her knees and of flaming orange. The dress was cut low in the neck and boasted no sleeves. At the waist was a tightly tied black sash. Rolled stockings, Russian boots, and a large red-feathered fan with a vanity bag attached, completed the costume. Don became suddenly hot. He wanted to call out for her to return to the back stage. He wanted to wash her face and put on her blue serge dress. Across the stage she came, one hand on her hip and the other fussing with her frizzed hair. She was chewing gum ferociously. In the middle of the stage she stopped and opened her vanity bag and painted her lips. Seated at the piano, she put down her bag, re-rolled one stocking, re-powdered her nose, adjusted her dress, took out her gum and placed it on the piano, and began to play. There was no doubt, she had out-flapped the flappers. There was silence while the audience listened to a new version of "Silent Night" and the "Cradle Hymn". A certain kind of shoulder movement accompanied the playing while her feet beat time on the floor. At last it was over and after applying a new make-up she staggered out under a doubtful applause. Mr. Jones came out rather astonished and shattered looking and announced another reading. Don turned to his mother. "I'm going back and get Mary. There's Mrs. Ben. You walk home with her." Just as he stepped in at the back entrance, Mary was putting on her coat. "What does this mean?" he stammered out. Mary's voice was nervous and high pitched as she answered, "Why, Don Harris, you have no right to talk that way." 17