Free Suds In Your Eye by Mary Lasswell

good.
    ‘Look!’ Mrs. Rasmussen tittered.
    ‘Ain’t he somepin’?’ chortled Mrs. Feeley. ‘Hey, they’s words on the fig-leaf! Let’s see what it says!’ Slowly and carefully Mrs. Rasmussen read aloud:
    ‘Do not raise this leaf!’
    The sports looked at each other questioningly, each trying to measure the other’s daring. Mrs. Feeley got her nerve up first:
    ‘Come on! Let’s lift it!’ she urged. ‘After all, it ain’t as if it would be anythin’ you an’ me ain’t seen before!’
    Gingerly she lifted the fig-leaf, and as she did so the air was filled with the wild, high buzzing of a burglar alarm. Mrs. Feeley immediately dropped the leaf back into place. The clamor ceased.
    The two culprits emerged from the ladies’ room grinning sheepishly. They were met at the door by wild salvos of applause, whistles, and cat-calls. The patrons at the bar turned around to stare at them and the sailors demanded a drink on the house.
    Miss Tinkham was pounding on the table with her beer-glass and laughing heartily as the sailors explained the joke to her…they had caught an unsuspecting male earlier in the evening who lifted the fig-leaf of the feminine nude that adorned the wall of the men’s room.
     

    Two suckers in one evening! Second drink on the house in one night…almost too good to be true!
    Nothing abashed, Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen enjoyed their free beer. They had scarcely finished when the lights were dimmed as a signal for closing time.
    As they left, Miss Tinkham told everyone what a marvelous time she had had; she promised to write regularly to the sailor boys. It had been a glorious binge.
    There was not a taxi in sight and the busses had stopped running. Mrs. Feeley did not feel like walking. They trudged a few steps along Market Street and were about to cross over to Island Avenue when the red light stopped them. The same red light stopped a car, heading down Island Avenue. Mrs. Feeley thought fast.
    ‘Stay close to me an’ do just what I do!’ she said. She stepped out into the street, opened the back door of the sedan, and got in, followed by the other two, before the astonished young driver or his companion could open their mouths.
    ‘You don’t mind if we just ride along to the foot o’ Island Avenue, do you? It’s only a little ways, an’ my feet hurts!’
    As the junk yard came into view, Mrs. Feeley told the young man he could stop.
    ‘Thanks for the lift, young feller!’ she said as he drove off scratching his head.
    ‘Yeup!’ said Mrs. Feeley as she got ready for bed. ‘Home’s the best place after all…after all the gin-mills is closed!’

Chapter 9
     
    M ISS TINKHAM came up the walk from the front gate with the mail in her hand. There was a card from the Broadway Beauty School for Mrs. Rasmussen announcing free permanent waves to anyone who would act as a model for the students to practice on.
    For Mrs. Feeley there was another of those letters with the bright orange enclosure from the tax collector’s office. Miss Tinkham was concerned about the frequency of these notices. She knew little about business procedure, but she felt sure that tax bills were rendered not more than twice a year, anyway. So she decided to broach the subject to Mrs. Feeley at once. Mrs. Feeley always disposed of the notices quite simply: she dropped them into the glass jar where she kept the tax money without ever opening the letters!
    ‘Mrs. Feeley, dear, I hope you won’t think I am interfering in what does not concern me, but here is another of those notices from the tax collector. Don’t you think perhaps I had better open it?’
    ‘Well, ’twon’t do no harm, I guess. I never open ’em, myself! The lawyer feller tends to that, but he ain’t been around an’ it’s a week past his time. He ain’t never been late before! I ain’t so hot on the readin’ myself; that’s why Mr. Feeley told me to leave all that there to Strunk an’ he’d take care o’ it for me. What’s it