time they reached the center of the town, where they intended getting the bus back to Haydensville. Two girls passed them and smiled invitingly.
“Oh, what peaches,” Carl exclaimed.
“Jush—jush—jush swell,” Hugh said with great positiveness, hanging on to Carl’s arm. “They ’re the shwellest Janes I’ve ever sheen.”
The girls, who were a few feet ahead, turned and smiled again.
“Let’s pick them up,” Carl whispered loudly.
“Shure,” and Hugh started unsteadily to in¬ crease his pace.
The girls were professional prostitutes who visited Hastings twice a year “to get the Sanford trade.” They were crude specimens, revealing their profession to the most casual observer. If Hugh had been sober they would have sickened him, but he wasn’t sober; he was joyously drunk and the girls looked very desirable.
“Hello, girls,” Carl said expansively, taking hold of one girl’s arm. “Busy?”
“Bish-bishy?” Hugh repeated valiantly.
The older “girl” smiled, revealing five gold teeth.
“Of course not,” she replied in a hard, flat voice,
“Not too busy for you boys, anyway. Come along with us and we ’ll make this a big afternoon.”
“Sure,” Carl agreed.
“Sh-shure,” Hugh stuttered. He reached for
