The Doughnut Woman came to the house every Wednesday. She had been coming for years. Her basket was faintly stained with grease and smelled sweetly of warm, powdered sugar. Mother always bought a dozen doughnuts every Wednesday, because Tim liked them and because she felt sorry for the Doughnut Woman. She had pathetic brown eyes and wore the most outlandish clothes. To-day, hot as it was, she was wearing a green plaid silk blouse and a black skirt. A wide sailor hat and flat-heeled shoes completed her costume.
“Mother’s taking a little nap,” Joan told her. “But she left the doughnut money. I’ll get it.”
When she came back, there was Chub parked on the kitchen steps. “I saw the doughnuts and came on over,” he explained. “Thought I heard you call me.”
Joan laughed. He hadn’t thought so at all, but he was welcome. Mother never cared if she gave Chub a doughnut or so. It always amused Mother that Chub admired Tim so much.
“Now don’t you two go eat ’em all up before your brother comes home.” The Doughnut Woman handed Joan one of the paper bags from her basket. “You know he does dote on my doughnuts. Well, I use the best of everything in them. You could feed my doughnuts to a baby. They wouldn’t hurt it.”
“They sure are good.” Chub bit into one Joan offered him and made a sugar mustache upon his lips. He was eyeing the Doughnut Woman over the sugar morsel.
“Tell your ma I hope she gets a good rest. I’m glad she don’t have to peddle doughnuts the way I do, when the days is so hot,” said the Doughnut Woman as she took her leave.
The two watched her around the house. “Isn’t she a scream?” asked Joan. “She looks like some of the pictures in the files of the Journal fifteen years ago. Mother has a blouse like that in the attic, only it’s even worse looking because it’s red.”
“Has she?” Chub asked. “Do you suppose you could find it for me—an outfit like that? I’d like to have it ready, in case I needed it some time. In case I wanted to fool people again the way I did last April Fool’s Day, remember?”
Joan did. She and Amy had been invited to a party given by one of their classmates. Chub had offered to escort them there and had arranged to meet them on a certain corner. When Joan and Amy reached the place, there was no one there under the dim street light but a dumpy colored woman, with a basket on her arm, bent over what appeared to be a thick stick. There the two girls had waited, with increasing annoyance, for Chub who had not appeared at the end of twenty minutes. In no uncertain words they said exactly what they thought of a boy who would treat two girls like that. Finally, almost with tears of vexation in their eyes, they decided to hail the next street car and go to the party alone and unescorted.