FRIENDS OF CHILDHOOD
"A growing girl needs lots of sleep," Ray providently remarked.
Thea moved restlessly on the buggy cushions. "They need other things more," she muttered. "Oh, I forgot. I brought something to show you. Look here, it came on my birthday. Was n't it nice of him to remember?" She took from her pocket a postcard, bent in the middle and folded, and handed it to Ray. On it was a white dove, perched on a wreath of very blue forget-me-nots, and "Birthday Greetings" in gold letters. Under this was written, "From A. Wunsch."
Ray turned the card over, examined the postmark, and then began to laugh.
"Concord, Kansas. He has my sympathy!"
"Why, is that a poor town?"
"It 's the jumping-off place, no town at all. Some houses dumped down in the middle of a cornfield. You get lost in the corn. Not even a saloon to keep things going; sell whiskey without a license at the butcher shop, beer on ice with the liver and beefsteak. I would n't stay there over Sunday for a ten-dollar bill."
"Oh, dear! What do you suppose he 's doing there? Maybe he just stopped off there a few days to tune pianos," Thea suggested hopefully.
Ray gave her back the card. "He 's headed in the wrong direction. What does he want to get back into a grass country for? Now, there are lots of good live towns down on the Santa Fé, and everybody down there is musical. He could always get a job playing in saloons if he was dead-broke. I 've figured out that I 've got no years of my life to waste in a Methodist country where they raise pork."
"We must stop on our way back and show this card to Mrs. Kohler. She misses him so."
"By the way, Thee, I hear the old woman goes to church every Sunday to hear you sing. Fritz tells me he has to wait till two o'clock for his Sunday dinner these days. The
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