isa-normaladvance-1903-00089

Description:	THE NORMAL ADVANCE.89This Lot For Sale.It strikes me, Randal], that you are gettingrather daffy over that picture. You never pass itwithout stopping for a prolonged stare, said Norman Terry teasingly to his room-mate.Randall only smiled and continued to stare.Terry stepped up to the mantel and looked overhis friends shoulder at the picture. It was aphotograph of a dozen laughing girls, groupedabout a sign board which bore these words in largeletters: This Lot for Sale. Apply to , buthere a mischievous, girlish face interposed andfurther information was not to be had.Two weeks before Randall had found the picture on the street and it bore no name or clew bywhich he might find its owner. It had stood onthe mantel in, the yoiung mens room ever sinceand had been the subject of a good many jests, especially from Terry.I dont blame you, he continued, for beingso deeply interested. I wish we knew when theauction is to take place I think Id go, myself.Which one would you bid on?It would be hard to decide, said Randall, butyou know Im partial to dimples.And is it this charming maiden with the dimples that you have been burning incense to ?Terry pointed first to a certain girl in the group,then to the little heap of cigar ashes that Randallhad from time to time deposited on the mantel.Randall relighted his cigar and went out intothe street. He had suddenly realized how muchthe dimpled face had haunted him in the past twoweeks. He told himself that it was absurd forhim to be so impressed by a mere picture of a girlhe had never seen and perhaps would never see.He resolved to forget it. But, all through the day,while he was in his office, a mischievous face persisted in thrusting itself before him, and Randallspent a good deal of his time staring at the wall.The car on which he returned home that evening was crowded. He rose to offer his seat to aslender girl who entered and, as she smiled andthanked him, Randalls fist was thrust into hiscoat pocket in a quick, impetuous way, as was hishabit when he was surprised. The girl with thedimples stood before him.He told Terry of the incident when he reachedhis room, explaining that it was a mere coincidence, and trying to hide his personal interest init.Theres fate in it, said Terry solemnly. Butdidnt you talk to her—did you give to her yourplace and then ride on the same car with her forsquares and squares and not find any pretext fora little conversation? Oh, Randall, youre soslow.If you had seen her, Terry—if yolu had seenher charming blushes, youd know that her acquaintance is not to be made so easily. If ever I—if ever we meet that girl it will be in the regularway. Randalls tone betrayed more enthusiasmthan the mere-coincidence seemed to justify.Perhaps the lot isnt for sale, after all, saidTerry, in a tone of mock disappointment.Randall did not continue the conversation. Hehad grown tired of Terrys jests about the picture.Eivery evening in the week that followed hescanned the different faces on the car expectantly,but every time his eager expression changed to oneof disappointment.He was careful, when he and Terry were intheir room together, not to be found staring at thephotograph on the mantel, for Tie disliked hisfriends teasing. There was no longer any needto have the picture before him, for when he satdown to enjoy a cigar, a blushing, dimpled facewould always come and go in the hazy smoke. Oneevening, as he was indulging in this dreamy luxury, Terry interrupted his musings.Randall, your company is about as enjoyableas that of a mummy. This monotonous life wereleading is beginning to tell on your spirits. Wevebeen in Terre Haute two months and have donenothing but dig away at our work night and day.
Source:	http://indstate.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/isuarchive/id/33846
Collection:	Indiana State University Archives

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