Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 147: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SOCKOLOGICAL SOCKER DOOLEY. his mind out into the street in the morning without realizing that his body carried no shoes. I. SOCKER DooLEY roamed _ aimlessly through the little park which adorns Union Square. It is a small park, but a haven for many of the souls which seem to have been discarded by the wheel of fortune. Its benches are ever a harbor for the weary travelers who go nowhere. The preceding night had been a trying one. Late fall weather conduces to nights of chill and any one who attempts to mix them with an alley bed learns that it doesn’t work. For the last two hours Socker had tramped the streets in an effort to restore circulation to his aching limbs. Then the sun came up. its warmth was grateful. He had watched it as it seemed to rise from behind the huge buildings of Broad- way; waited impatiently for it to attain a place in the heavens from whence its direct rays might drive the biting tang from the air. With a sigh of relief he sank onto one of the benches. Directly across the footpath was another deserted bench which offered a startling sight. At one end of it was a perfectly excellent overcoat which seemed to boast no interested owner. After a cold night in an alley and early morning hours spent in -rubbing chilled wrists, that was some sight! With considerable alacrity Socker changed benches and cast wary glances about in search of prying eyes. Thére was none. Gingerly he let his hand fall upon the gar- ment, pulled it a little closer to him. A psychologist would have known instantly that another psychologist had preceded him to the bench and become so engrossed in thought that he had left his coat. It was easy to see that the rising sun had obviated the need for the garment. But Socker was no psychologist. If he had an inferiority complex it asserted itself only at sight of a badge and all without Socker’s knowledge. Here was a perfectly good coat, sorely needed. The cloth felt warm and alluring to his battered fingers. The neat little fur V7 collar seemed to cry out for the privilege of protecting his swollen ears from the biting winds. With another careful glance in all directions he lifted the coat onto his arm and struck off across the park. His back had a quivery sensation as though some one was about to grab him from behind and his ears were expectant of a sudden hue and cry which would require immediate footwork on his part. Neither came. He turned into Fifteenth Street and paused behind a big truck in order to slip the coat on. His attempt to get his flat hand into the sleeve was like the camel and needle act. It couldn’t be done. “ Gawd!” sighed Socker, regretfully, “it’s boy’s size. ’Bout as useful ter me as snowshoes in Hades!” But he had the coat and dared not throw it away because of the attention he would attract. Being of a purely chemical structure Socker never thought to look in the pockets until he had traversed several blocks. Imagine his amazement and joy at dis- covering a twenty dollar bill wrapped around several twos and ones! And he had had no breakfast that morning! Feverishly he dug his hands into the other pockets. In the inner one he came upon a leather folder which looked like more money but proved disappointing. All it held were some cards proclaiming the name and address of Professor Phineas Martin. Socker saw that he was not far from the number given. ‘“ Guess it ain’t a kid’s coat at dat,” he muttered, “ an’ it’s a cinch de bimbo dat wears dis envelope ain’t gonna scare me none in a fight!” He held the coat from him in order better to realize its diminutive proportions. an’ a private dinin’ room.” There is no joy greater to a hungry man than hunting for a restaurant, especially when hope has long since departed that he would have any use for such a place after he found it. IIT. STIMULATED by the food and hot drink Socker left the café intent upon going to the address given on the cards and finding out if a reward for the coat would be CoOmmicoooks “Well, me fer de Waldorf (S@)