One of the two pretty daughters told me this story.
Dressed in their spring dresses, the Grocer’s two daughters waited for their dates to arrive. When the two guys parked their jalopy at the curb, they honked the horn. Not once, but four or five times.
The daughters didn’t move from their living room chairs.
But their father marched to the front porch. Then yelled loud enough to be heard at the Abilene high school, four blocks away.
“We don’t give curb service!”
The Grocer went back to the living room, picked up his evening newspaper, and sat in his favorite chair.
In a few minutes, the two boys stood outside the screen door. They shuffled their feet, dropped their heads, knocked on the door.
The Grocer responded. “Come in, Gentlemen. Your dates are waiting.”
