Library / Literature & Fiction

Our Mr. Wrenn: The Romantic Adventures of a Gentle Man
- Pages
- about 276
- Category
- Literature & Fiction
- Language
- English
- Reading time
- 5.1 h at 250 wpm
From the opening
The ticket-taker of the Nickelorion Moving-Picture Show is a public
personage, who stands out on Fourteenth Street, New York, wearing a
gorgeous light-blue coat of numerous brass buttons. He nods to all the
patrons, and his nod is the most cordial in town. Mr. Wrenn used to
trot down to Fourteenth Street, passing ever so many other shows, just
to get that cordial nod, because he had a lonely furnished room for
evenings, and for daytime a tedious job that always made his head
stuffy.
He stands out in the correspondence of the Souvenir and Art Novelty
Company as “Our Mr. Wrenn,” who would be writing you directly and
explaining everything most satisfactorily. At thirty-four Mr. Wrenn was
the sales-entry clerk of the Souvenir Company. He was always bending
over bills and columns of figures at a desk behind the stock-room. He
was a meek little bachlor—a person of inconspicuous blue ready-made
suits, and a small unsuccessful mustache.
To-day—historians have established the date as April 9, 1910—there had
been some confusing mixed orders from the Wisconsin retailers, and Mr.
Wrenn had been “called down” by the office manager, Mr. Mortimer R.
Guilfogle. He needed the friendly nod of the Nickelorion ticket-taker.
He found Fourteenth Street, after office hours, swept by a dusty wind
that whisked the skirts of countless plump Jewish girls, whose V-necked
blouses showed soft throats of a warm brown. Under the elevated station
he secretly made believe that he was in Paris, for here beautiful
Italian boys swayed with trays of violets; a tramp displayed crimson
mechanical rabbits, which squeaked, on silvery leading-strings; and a
newsstand was heaped with the orange and green and gold of magazine
covers.
“Gee!” inarticulated Mr. Wrenn. “Lots of colors. Hope I see foreign
stuff like that in the moving pictures.”
He came primly up to the Nickelorion, feeling in his vest pockets for a
nickel and peering around the booth at the friendly ticket-taker. But
the latter was thinking about buying Johnny’s pants.
A short sample. Read the whole book
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