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“Shall we go?” Catherine yawned.

“Yes, in a few minutes.”

“Squirmy is still asleep after his rest period.”

“He’s a clown,” Studs said.

“Yes, he’s vulgar,” Catherine said.

A bell sounded and the contestants danced to radio jazz. Ted Delancy and Doris Davis performed a tango in the center of the floor. At the end of three minutes, the marching line re-formed and Ted and Doris picked up the money thrown to them. A stout man arose in a box and waved to Doris. She walked over to him and he handed her a dollar. Katy Jones and Honks Oliver passed him, and he handed Katy a bill. Many cheered.

“Well, I guess we better blow,” Studs said.

“Yes, we’ll just wait a few more minutes and see if anything happens.”

They yawned.

“That fellow who just passed that dough out to Katy Jones, he’s been here for six days straight,” somebody to Catherine’s left said while Studs yawned.

“Ten after one,” Studs said.

VII

“We must go now, Bill,” Catherine said.

“Yeah, Kid. It’s a quarter to three.” They wormed to an aisle in the bleachers and walked downward. Studs watched Harold Morgan floundering.

“Poor Harold,” Catherine said behind him.

Harold catapulted forward. He straightened up and shook his head. He walked zigzag, lurched, lost his balance, and pitched face forward on a bench.

“Oh,” Catherine exclaimed, as the referee rushed to him.

Two male attendants appeared, Harold was lifted to his feet, his nose gushing blood. A woman fainted in the box. Nearly every spectator stood up, and there was a buzzing hum of conversation.

“Let’s wait and see if he’s seriously hurt. That was awful.”

“Yes, he looks badly cut up.”

Two ushers led past Studs the woman who had fainted. She was a stout greasy woman, and she was saying:

“That poor boy. Poor Harold. Poor Harold.”

Studs shook his head to stay awake, and Catherine leaned against him. The contestants trooped around, and Squirmy Stevens’ partner struggled to hold him up.

“Let’s sit there,” Catherine said, pointing at a vacant space near the bottom of the bleachers.

“Here he comes.”

They saw Harold Morgan step back onto the floor, grinning sheepishly, his face clean, and a plaster patch pasted above his left eye. The cheers were deafening, and without realizing what he was doing, Studs found himself cheering. Catherine tugged at his elbow. The cheers continued as he and Catherine walked out, and he wished he was Harold, standing out there and bringing so many people to their feet with roars of admiration. But then, he’d rather be famous some other way.

“It is kind of interesting, though. It gets you interested without you realizing it, once you get to know who they are.”

“Yeah. Exciting and funny things happen in it.”

“I wonder who’ll win.”

“Hurry, Al, I want to get in. And I do hope that Harold Morgan has not dropped out,” a girl said, passing them on the stairs.

“I didn’t like that Katy Jones. She’s awful,” Catherine said sleepily.

“Uh huh,” Studs yawned, leading her to the street car.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I

Studs drowsed in his B.V.D.’s while the drawn green window-shade waved a trifle from the hot and inconsequential August wind. Sunlight seeped around the edges of the curtain, and from somewhere outside kids could be heard whooping at play. He smiled wearily. Even if he was all pooped out, he could still look back on the last week and feel satisfied, and now that it was Saturday afternoon he could just take it easy and let himself feel good. But there was no use trying to kid himself. He just wasn’t the man that he used to be. Yesterday he’d come home from work with his fanny dragging damn near to the ground. He’d seen Catherine every night in the week, and then in the park on Thursday night twice with her had not been calculated to make him any more peppy and energetic. And now the week was over, and here he was just lying almost half asleep, letting his mind drift.

Yet even with the heat wave he was glad that he’d worked. He’d salted fifteen bucks in the bank. Now, if he could