MARY V TAKES THE TRAIL On a Saturday afternoon Spring Street at Sixth is a busy street, as timid pedestrians and the traffic cop stationed there will testify.

In times not so far distant the general public howled insistently for a subway, or an elevated railway--anything that would relieve the congestion and make the downtown district of Los Angeles a decently safe place to walk in.

But subways and elevated railways cost money, and the money must come from the public which howls for these things.
Gradually the public ceased to howl and turned its attention to dodging instead.

For that reason Sixth and Spring remains a busy corner, especially at certain hours of the day.
On a certain Saturday, months before the traffic cops grew tired of blowing whistles and took to revolving silently at stated intervals with outspread wings after the manner of certain mechanical toys, Mary V Selmer came from the Western Union's main office, and thanked heaven silently that her new roadster of the type called the Bear Cat was still standing at the curb where she had left it.

Just beyond it on the left a stream of automobiles grazed by--but none so new and shiny, so altogether elegantly "sassy" as the Bear Cat.