Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

“Couldn’t you see that they didn’t care for our company?” I replied in the same tone.
“Oh you are a ronyon”
“Burchie, Burchie” cried Kinkie “what did you do that for?”
“Why, didn’t you notice that they only answered in monosyllables”
“That’s true they did” asserted Bill. “But then King – “
“I’ll bet King wanted to have his girl by himself” I continued. I was not at all sure of my ground; I had merely acted on a sudden impulse.
“I see” said Bill suddenly “I see – we were ronyons. Com on, I don’t want to see King or Dorothy again to-night. Now I never will get her address.”
“Let’s go up to the street” I said suddenly. “we’ll never meet Bernice now. If she’s waited around this long time, why, she’s a ronyon too”
Up Main street we strolled, wondering that the pair back at the picture shows though of us. Then we all decided that we’d have to cool off at Stranahan’s. Arriving in front of there, Bill was struck with a sudden thought.