And the Yeah, Welcome back everyone to one thousand one classic short stories and tales. This is your host

John Haggadorn today a great short story from O Henry called The Third

ingredient hope you enjoy it. The so-called

called Valembrosa Apartment House is not an apartment house.

It is composed of two old-fashioned brownstone front residences welded into one.

The parlor floor of one side is gay with the wraps and headgear of a mouriste.

The other is lugubrious with the sophisticated promises and

grisly display of a painless dentist. You may have a room there for $2 a week, or you may have one for $20.

Among the Valembrose's rumors are stenographers, musicians, brokers, shopgirls, space rate writers, art students, wiretapers, and other people who lean far over the banister rail when the doorbell rings.

This treatise shall have to do with but two of the valembrojans, though many no disrespect to the others.

At six o'clock one afternoon, Hety Pepper came back to her third floor rear $3.50 room in the Valembrosa with

her nose and chin more sharply pointed than usual.

To be discharged from the department store where you have been working for four years,

and with only 15 cents in your purse does have a tendency to make your features appear more finely chiseled.

And now for Hedy's thumbnail biography while she climbs the two flights

of stairs. She walked into the biggest store one morning four years before with 75 other girls applying for a job behind the

waste department counter. The phalanx of wage earners formed a bewildering scene of

beauty carrying a total mass of blonde hair sufficient to have justified the horseback gallops of a hundred Lady

Gadiva's.

The capable, cool-eyed impersonal, young, bald-headed man whose task it was to engage six of the contestants,

was aware of a feeling of suffocation as if he were drowning a sea of Frangipani, while

white clouds, hand-em embroidered, floated about him.

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