Read Online Tooner Schooner by Mary Lasswell - Free Book Online Page A

yelled.
    “He’s that pleased he’s gotta be off by himself for a minute.” Mrs. Rasmussen watched Sunshine’s long, soft look after the skipper’s retreating back.
    Miss Tinkham towered far above Mr. Cobb in the waltz, but the little columnist bumped along cheerfully. Mrs. Feeley got up to dance with Oscar and Mrs. Rasmussen took Jasper’s hand.
    “Fat as a tun,” she said. “Mrs. Feeley’s built like a hogshead, but ain’t she light on her feet?”
    “It’s like dancing with a mountain of whipped cream,” Jasper said. “Or diving in a feather bed. Sure fun. A man likes a nice armful of goodies. Now that Velma, she’s so solid it’s like dancing with a brick…”
    “Smokehouse,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “You see what I see?” She moved her head to indicate the odd-looking woman dancing with Red. Johnny and Velma were dancing, sawing away grimly. “Shame to leave Darleen sittin’ by herself, when a damn gatecrasher is takin’ up one of our men! Get closer, will you?” She craned her neck to get a better look when the rasp of a Klaxon horn was heard even above the blare of the music. All heads turned in disbelief. Mrs. Feeley stared around pop-eyed, wondering where the blast came from. She saw the woman dancing with Red. It certainly wasn’t anybody they knew.
    “The bloody crust of her!” Mrs. Feeley shouted to Mrs. Rasmussen. “Reckon Red brung her?” There was no time to answer because Jasper whirled Mrs. Rasmussen into the fast figure of the polka.
    “Pay attention, now!” he said. “Here we go!” Mrs. Rasmussen bounded away in his arms:
    “If there’s anythin’ I like it’s the schottische!”
    “Goddlemighty!” Mrs. Feeley’s shriek could be heard over the shrill A-GOO-GAH of the Klaxon. “It’s right out on the dance floor somewhere!” All seven couples were craning their necks wildly to see where the devilish noise was coming from. Mrs. Feeley and Oscar were cutting a complicated caper when Red and his partner came alongside and a horrible blast from the horn nearly rocked Mrs. Feeley’s head off her shoulders.
    “Stop the music!” she screamed. Pierpont ran and snapped off the switch. Mrs. Feeley had the strange woman by the shoulders shaking her. “What’s the idea of a Bustle Bumper like you bargin’ in here an’ creatin’ a disturbance?”
    Captain Dowdy shouldered his way into the crowd. “Care to dance, ma’am?” The captain put his arm around the strange lady’s waist and waltzed off without music…unless the repeated shrieks of the horn could be called music.
    “I’m mad enough to drink coke sody!” Mrs. Feeley shouted, and ran full tilt into the dancers. Mrs. Rasmussen dived between their legs, knocking the captain off balance, pot over kettles on the driveway.
    “She has that instrument of torture concealed somewhere on her person,” Miss Tinkham insisted. Mrs. Feeley grabbed the stranger’s skirts and hoisted them up, giving a view of ruffled can-can pants and red garters. She pulled the skirts into a knot over the woman’s head, covering big velvet hat, veil and all.
    Mrs. Feeley sat down with a thump, her legs straight out in front of her. She pointed hysterically to the wriggling stranger trying in vain to shake off Miss Tinkham and Mrs. Rasmussen. The crowd moved in closer. “Lashed around her waist an’ down the side of her legs with a bit o’ clothes line! What kind of a fizz-gig do you call that?”
    The men were howling. Darleen doubled over the table. Mrs. Rasmussen and Miss Tinkham held fast to the squirming intruder.
    “Don’t let go of her till I see the brazen face of the dirty hussy!” Mrs. Feeley raged. Mrs. Rasmussen and Miss Tinkham had the victim pretty well in the bag, arms pinioned inside the skirt and ruffled petticoat. “Hold fast, my dears!” Mrs. Feeley muttered. “We’ll soon know who the trollop is!” Jasper and Oscar came to help, but it seemed that they only delayed matters. “Outa my way.” Mrs. Feeley