“Good-night,” said Platt. “I’ll see you at the store to-morrow.”
Miss Asher ran up to her room and shook the school teacher until she sat up in bed ready to scream “Fire!”
“Where is it?” she cried.
“That’s what I want to know,” said the model. “You’ve studied geography, Emma, and you ought to know. Where is a town called Cac—Cac—Carac—Caracas City, I think, they called it?”
“How dare you wake me up for that?” said the school teacher. “Caracas is in Venezuela, of course.”
“What’s it like?”
“Why, it’s principally earthquakes and negroes and monkeys and malarial fever and volcanoes.”
“I don’t care,” said Miss Asher, blithely; “I’m going there to-morrow.”
THE BADGE OF POLICEMAN O’ROON
It cannot be denied that men and women have looked upon one another for the first time and become instantly enamored. It is a risky process, this love at first sight, before she has seen him in Bradstreet or he has seen her in curl papers. But these things do happen; and one instance must form a theme for this story—though not, thank Heaven, to the overshadowing of more vital and important subjects, such as drink, policemen, horses and earldoms.