Fuselli.
“Did yer?”
“It was just like it was with me. Ever been in Frisco, Powers?”
The tall youth shook his head. Then he took off his broad-brimmed hat and ran his fingers over his stubby tow-head.
“Gee, it was some hot in there,” he muttered.
“Well, it's like this,” said Fuselli. “You have to cross the ferry to Oakland. My aunt... ye know I ain't got any mother, so I always live at my aunt's.... My aunt an' her sister-in-law an' Mabe... Mabe's my girl... they all came over on the ferry-boat, 'spite of my tellin' 'em I didn't want 'em. An' Mabe said she was mad at me, 'cause she'd seen the letter I wrote Georgine Slater. She was a toughie, lived in our street, I used to write mash notes to. An' I kep' tellin' Mabe I'd done it juss for the hell of it, an' that I didn't mean nawthin' by it. An' Mabe said she wouldn't never forgive me, an' then I said maybe I'd be killed an' she'd never see me again, an' then we all began to bawl. Gawd! it was a mess.... ”
“It's hell sayin' good-by to girls,” said Powers, understandingly. “Cuts a feller all up. I guess it's better to go with coosies. Ye don't have to say good-by to them.”
“Ever gone with a coosie?”
“Not exactly,” admitted the tall youth, blushing all over his pink face, so that it was noticeable even under the ashen glare of the arc lights on the avenue that led towards camp.
“I have,” said Fuselli, with a certain pride. “I used to go with a Portugee girl. My but she was a toughie. I've given all that up now I'm engaged, though.... But I was tellin' ye.... Well, we finally made up an' I kissed her an' Mabe said she'd never marry any one but me. So when we was walkin” up the street I spied a silk service flag in a winder, that was all fancy with a star all trimmed up to beat the band, an' I said to myself, I'm goin' to give that to Mabe, an' I ran in an' bought it. I didn't give a hoot in hell what it cost. So when we was all kissin' and bawlin' when I was goin' to leave them to report to the overseas
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