IN SAN FRANCISCO
Permission of the author
Aw, gee, I wisht them ol' fog-horns would stop blowin'. Sounds just like some one moanin'; an' gosh, I feel blue enough to-night without them howlin' around down there.
I ain't never been no Jane for showin' feelin's. I've always had the sand to buck it off. But aw, to-night I'm wopped between the lamps. I got to git this off my chest—it's jist bustin' me. Don't get me wrong. I ain't no weak mouth; but I ain't got no mother, never had no father, ain't got nobody to spill to—But he left to-night—had to beat it to France or somewhere wid de army. Course I knowed he was billed to go sometime, but ain't it funny you don't seem to feel it in your bones that they are sure goin' till—bang! They're gone.
To-night Sam came steppin' up. That's his name—Sam. Gosh, I just love that name. Well, Sam comes up. Gee! you ought to see Sam; he Is the grandest lookin' guy you ever lamped—all shoulders an' no waist. Say, all the skirts on de coast wuz crazy for him, an' gosh, he grabs me an' sticks.
Well, Sam he comes up an' says, "Honey kid, I's got some headlines in big print. To-
