When she got her first Chip Diamond and Father switched from the Dudeen to Cigars, she was known in High School Circles as Katherine.
And when Pop got in on the main Divvy and began to take an interest in
Paintings, the name went down on the Register at the Waldorf as
Kathryn, in those peaked Sierra Nevada Letters about four inches high.
Katie used to go to St. Joseph's Hall once in a while with Martin, the
Lad who helped around the Grocery.
Katherine regarded with much Favor a Pallid Drug Clerk who acted as a
Clearing House for all Local Scandal.
But say, when Kathyrn came back from a vine-clad Institute overlooking the historic Hudson and devoted to the embossing and polishing of the Female Progeny of those who have got away with it, she began working the Snuffer on all the Would-Bes back in the Mill Town. When she got through extinguishing, the little Group that remained looked like the Remnant of the Old Guard at Waterloo.
Father had to stick around because occasionally the eight thousand Good
Tempered Boys on the Pay Roll would begin to burn with Wood Alcohol and
the Wrongs of Labor and pull off a few Murders, merely to hasten the
Triumph of Justice.
By the way, Kathryn had a Mother who used to hide in a room upstairs and timidly inspect her new Silk Dresses.
Kathryn applied the Acid Test to her People and decided that they never could Belong.
She swung on the General Manager for a Letter of Credit big enough to set Ireland free and went traipsing off to the Old World under the chaperonage of a New York Lady who had seen Better Days.
Now it will be admitted that William J. Burns is Some Sleuth, but when it comes to apprehending and running to Earth a prattling American Ingenue with a few Millions stuffed in her Reticule, the Boy with the mildewed Title who sits on the Boulevard all day and dallies with the green and pink Bottled Goods has got it all over Burns like a Striped Awning.