New Britain Herald Newspaper, May 25, 1921, Page 10

CROWD young people stood around the flower booth at the “fair,” which was be- ing held by the Stew- artville churches. It was a “benefit” for the Red Cross, and it WAas proving a suc n beyond expectations. 80 you are here, Florence? pes your ladyship prefer?” Murray, smiling, held his open in _his hands. Across the ss of Marion Lothrep's waist a dozen carnations Jack had Nettic Bronson held a great of heliotropes, and Gladys Ste- ried her nose daintily in a big f wviolets—Jack's offeringe ce Leaverton, weary with her s of the “art booth,” touched a ly rose. “One or two of these, ist one or two!" Jack laid two dozen of the pink in her arms. . your name is generosity,” Flo- ried; then, for a fleeting in- er beautiful gray eyes rested ex- ly , almost entreatingly, on the t face of Fred Graham—Fred, as wearing a worn blue serge of suit, which, if tidy, was not particularly well pressed. Florence guessed he had pressed it himself. When a girl secretly loves a young man it hurts her for him to exhibit miser-like tendencies, and she'd cavertly watched him all evening, and he'd bought nothing. Over by the candy booth Harry Cass was spending his hardware clerk’s wagtes like water, and Fred, as ditector of the town's linemen, made as much as Jack and Harry together With an intensity that was real pain Florence hoped that he would buy her some flowers, if only to show Lillian White and the others he wasn't the “tightwad” they thought him., Bul she was putting on Her hat when he eame to her with his offering—-a tiny ten cent bunch of sweet smelling dried lavender “For your handkerchicf box,” he said, with the smile Florence loved, and added in wistful. apology, “I wish it were a better offering, but it's the best that [ can do.” At home, in her room Florence care- lessly thrust Jack’s #plendid roses in a vase on her dressing table, but she kissed the humble lavender, crying mis- erably as she laid it among her choicest handkerchiefs. There wasn't any need for him to pinch so, shé was sure. He was always in the gayest of humors, liké a man who had nothing troubling him, and he was so charming and pleasant all the girls, liked him. . He lived in a cheap room on Smoke street, where only the very poor live, and they (Harry Cass and her brother Harry) said he was téo “close” to spend for board, but took things to his room and cooked thém! He wasn't saving to be married, either. That she knew. Florence's olive chiceks flamed. He went wherever she gdid, and talked to her oftener than to amy other girls, but that was- all! Some wecks after-thé “Bdlgium re- lief fund fair,” on a brilliant warm day late March, a Sunday-school “fishing party” and picnic, with all the town's children present, held on Ward river. In the afternoon a group of young girls, assisted by three young men, were gathering violets on the river's brink. Suddenly there were frightened screams, and two white spots for an instant flashed on the deep water’s sutface. Be- atrice and Lottie Felt, little sikters, had lost their balance and fallen in the river. In a second Fred Graham had torn off his coat, and Jack Murray and Allen everybody, in was Newell had off theirs. Newell leaped together. felt the blood flowing away from her heart, leaving it dry as marble. Fred Graham, as though he suddenly re- membered, stooped and picked up His coat. Florence noticed there was a mended place in its lining as he slowly put it on again. Then he ran to the water's edge, vards below, where the bank sloped, nnd helped the chitled rescuers - ont with the unharnied but thoroughly_frightened children. Murray and Then Florence That evenifig, when he asked Florence if he might-hot walk home with her, she refused icily. After that day she saw hnlr of Pred. One late morning, after a stormy night=—af unseasonably cold, windy day —she met him going ocut with another lineman. Hec tipped his cap silently in response to her nod, and Flerence saw that his cycs were weary. Surreptitious- ly Plorence wiped Her éyes. About ten,that morning Fred Graham and William Cram, a lineman somewhat older than himself, worked upon a fele- graph pole many fect above. the rail- road. The pole rocked to and fro, as the high wind blew fiercely. Suddenly a heavier gust caused Cram to turn in s position. He pushed Fred, Who, surprised, fell backward, involuntarily clutching at his companion, and both of them tumbled over among the wires. could get up. “Take it easy. I'll have help here directly.” Fred managed to get to the station a grew a degroe paler. her.” “It's my cousin,” he explained. “Tell me abowy After one tefite oment Fred: emu-wmile away and to “teli+his story. . Then: could net work, and her lite depe tiously_put out his arms, but.he.could.. not reach the post. “Billy,” he said, “it's no go. If T move the wires will break.” As he spoke one of the wires snapped. In the half that they hung there in imminent danger of falling to the track the four little curly higads he had seen looking overCram’s fence that morning passed before Fred's mind like figures on a frieze. “Billy,” he said “you're a married man, with four babies, and these wires won't hold both of us. It's a big drop, but I'm going to let go.” Jon’t Fred!” besought Cram. “You'll :be killed! Letig-both-bang en a little longer Another wire snapped. ance will keep Neftie,” Cram heard Fred “and nearly well now, thank God!—I'm going,-Billy!" he spoke aloud, “Good-by ! The tears rolled down Cram’s cheeks. “Good-by " he: groaned. It was a fall of forty feet and more. Fred fell among seme rough: stumfps-of bushes and rolled down an embankment. “I'm all right, Bil moment “The insur- murmur, she’s skl oY Sme g ‘Taking the Steps to Happiness“f h E stood in the gutter and gazed helplessly at the wreck which spread at his feet The sturdy young lad squared his shotlders and made a mighty effort not to cry or other- ive way to his feelings, as he H upon the pieces of coal and the r in the flour bag, eut of which lnable “black nuggets” had tum- was ne e ery * b, I wouldn't,” Lester stared in ise at the speaker. He saw a tall, puilt man, whose cold, cynical fea- were lighted up with the faintest of interest. He did not know that Jameson was the egotistical, un- jonal rich man who lived around who never took any interest he declared defiantly orner, VELYN 0SGOOD hastily threw a few things into a travel- ing bag, confiding meanwhile in ahuge gray Angora cat curled up on her couch. Evelyn al- ways confided in y, chifly because Patsy never asked cless questions or kept murmuring that so?” or “Oh, how too bad.” Ve'll take our snowshoes and our y gloves and our worst boots. Won't fun, Patsy? And won't Aunt Mibs [boiling ?" hus clad in her furs, her snowshoes ed under her arms, she peeped cau sly into her aunt’s room on her way ynstairs 'Where are you going with that bay those shoes, child?” the matron of nquired from over her morning mail What It Proved. YOUNG lady who prided herself on her energy and _capabili- ties was one day talk ing to a neighbor at dimner of her variotis occupations. I can play the piand and trim a hat with equal " she asserted rather boastfully. energy does you credit” re- the Natener politely in the activities of the common people, “It's rather like the spilt milk axiom. There's no use crying.” “It's better than milk, sir,” Lester ex- claimed, “coal can be picked up.” “That's 30, of course. Where is your container ?* “The bag is broken. I dont know what ‘to do.” He looked around anxi- ously for a stray paper. “But I'll surely find a way. Mother must have the coal, and I'm the only one to get it for her.” “Wait a moment, I'll find a pail,” and Jameson, wondering what possessed him to bother about others, hastened to his mansion house. It had been years since he trod the cellar stairs, but instinct lead him to a pail; and as he passed the huge coal bins be hesitated, turned back, filled the pail to overflowing, and after secking another receptacle for Lester, hastily returned to the waiting boy. Lester gazed doubtfully at the black oftering. “I don’t know,” he hesitated, “Over to Helen's with this borrowed costume and then up to the club with the crowd.” “Well,, be back in time to rest up for tonight,” and the older woman settled ‘back to her task Evelyn sent the car back from one of the downtown stores and ‘glanced at her wrist watch. Five minutes! Picking her way along the icy pavement she found herself at the railroad station just in time for the train she was expecting. To the conductor she handed her mile- age book and murmured “Westport,” then settled herself down to watch the suburbs of the great city fly past and the long stretches of open fields and snow laden trees grow more and more frequent. Noon found her on the little unprotected platform of the Westport “depot,” the chill northern air biting her nose. She glanced at an old "bus stand- ing néar, then shook her head to the Mother You sce, “we are not charity folks. wouldn’t like it in the least. room. That didn’t give us a‘chance;t fet in any sort of a coal supply, an now there’s this shortage. You know all about that, deu't yo “Seems to me I did come across some mention of lack of coal, in my reading.” “Mention! My goodness, where have you been, sir? Guess you haven't stood since father died we've had to live in 6na‘ CAn spare it, and if you.lét me pay in line for hours as 1 have, just for a little bag full, like this. We have only two to warm. Think of the hundreds of families full of babies and sick people!” “You don't say!” Fascinated by the truthful brown | eyes, the earnest face, Jamesoh lingered at his side; and when the boy bent to collect the fallen coals, Jameson ‘found himself doing like- wise. “So you are short of coal?” “Rather. We didn’t have any fire yes- terday. And mother jisn't awfully driver, turned and took the hard trodden road leading away from the town. She gloried. in the crisp air, the decp snow, the very tingling of the blood in her d|ceks', but her toes and fingers were glad when che turned in at a little white farm house and knocked emphat- ically on the door. “Why, bless my soul alive, where did you come from?” exglaimed the mother- ly old lady who answered the knock, drawing the girl into the warm kitchen and closing the door. “Pa, do come and see who's here.” “Well, if it ain’t - Eve,” ejaculated joyfully. be cold.” Eve ate ravenously before her and Wiley’s questions. “Well, aunt Mary, yott know aunt Mibs is. She just simply insists that well—coniders it a per- the old man “Bless me, yc must of the lunch" set then answered Mrs. what I marry strong.” He choked back the sob. #T'll take your coal, €ir, if you arc sure You for Jameseon thought of his (cz!hmx full to the top, and for the first time in his life he quivered with shame. The tre- mor was Very small, hardly noticcable, but while it lasted he felt strangely un- comfortable. ¥ “Suppose youset me help you pull the sled. I'll take the rope:’ Yot follow and steady the pails. TFomorrow w! can set- tle the bill.” . Had any of the .man’s - club friends met him they would have vowed that he had lost his mind, tuggibg on the slip- pery sidewalk at”a well worn sled with its ragged rope, while a poor but neatly patched lad of eight was pushing behind. They had not a very great distance te go. Jameson feft thé boy &4t the tene- ment house door, resolved:ta. keep in touch - with him. » sonal Tesponsibility ‘and” all that stuff. She’s discovered a new man—a Chaun- cy Smith, the son. of an old friend. Money, government commission, every- thing desirable, and his mother and aunt Mibs have arranged a party for tonight. He has two weeks and they are bound we'll elope, or some other romantic thing, before he goe¢ back to Washing- ton.” She leaned forward, dropped her apple core into the fire and shrugged her shoulders. “Aunt Mibs will begin to look for me at about six and the gtiests begin to arrive at eight.” Aunt Mary laughed heartily and de- parted kitchenward to get supper. Eve- Iyn followed and envcloped in a huge apron was helping lay the table, another knock sounded at the door. “Will you go to the door, honey; I must get these biscuits in,” aunt Mary called from the pantry. Behind the heavy wind and the whirl when As he tieafed his lonely Homé, his de- termination grew stronger. what Hé had Wissed “hiring” #iF the days and weeks that he had lived in state alone. . “I'm too old to marry,” he mused, blowing gréat wreaths of smoke to the sky. “The man who hasn’t found a woman to suit him by the time h& reaches the age of 38 might just as well give up Jooking.® But I, would, dike a child, a that boy. chap wouldn’t cry! He'll make a qnn he ‘will.” « By morning his mind was fully’ made up. He took the) coal;road that Jhe had taken the day before, with the ohe ided boy, of asking: the mother—who would be,’ coarse And untidy and vulgwr ;and. who would | bc glad enough to put the boy intg.a godd home—to let him have hef son. - ‘ Legfer saw him coming and qngcrl, welcomed him. “Mother is so grateful,® he began, and noticed that the visitor’s 1" he ca"cd &hen hr He réalized he_fainted. “Both arms broken 1nd a rxh or twn' the doctor annotnc d Jater. “Seme man shat!” At Dr. Perry’s house that weck Fred Graham held high levee. When Flo- rence leaverton came in to see him on the third day, she méant 6 be very dfg- nified, ‘very -cofiventional, but'.at sight of his hollow white ‘¢heeks, and his helplessness, her fine composure fled. “I am: so glad,”. she stammergd. “If you. had been killed—oh, if you had ‘been killed—we—I—" “Biet 1 wasn't killed, you see,” he smiled, “and it's good «of yougo-sto be glad—" “I'd have had no chance to ask you to forgive me!” she went on, trembling. “For what?” he asked. She blushed and ‘whitened, “I—oh, Fred—I've thought, si time at the river—" “Yotr've thought I was a-coward us well as a miser,” he finished for her. “Well, I don't blame you, but there.was Nettie—" He hesitated. “Nettie!” she echoed, and her cheeks since that [rovg ife ‘and ‘his ‘eyes were ‘big with “astonishment. For mother had followed her boy! Jameson stared at the exact replica of the boy, save for the added daintiness, winsomeness, grace. The hegvily lashed eyes“were soft and seducing, the hand that found itself wrapped ©p ifl his was just as slender and white asihis own. “I'm thankful to youw,” sheé smiled,and and through. “We had the money, but sithply couldn’t sectire ‘the coal” Later he found that she didn't have as much money as She had pride. He spent long hours maneuvering. make her geceive the luxusies evidertly-used to, “but- néctssity com- pelled hcr to F‘" up. It was. not long before His awn. necds changed,.and al- though . he.still ‘wanted the son, whldl desire he had’ not’ dared to breathe to e wothan, he wapted the mother even more. of snow that camc in Evelyn heaxd a* answer; theu hé¢ supphed shortl), "va— pleasant masculine voice—a strong, fmu- sical” voice—good to hear. . “W-—won't you come ir she ven< tured, at which aunt Mary appeared. “Of coursc—come right in out of the cold,” she seconded hearti failing, however, al the question in her cyes. The stranger hesitated, hat in’ hand. “1 thank you,” he said gravely; “I ar- rived in town late looking for a place to board for a few days, and I was ad- vised to come here. Can you accom- modate me?” Aunt Mary hesitated. to put up with what we have. o to conc: glanced at FEvelyn, and “Why, yes, if you are willing We do and one of our guests has come back now for 4 few days. This is Evelyn Osgood, Mr. For a. moment the take boarders in the summer, stranger did not Some New Funnybone ‘Tic'klers the conversation; but the flood was net to be stayed “In short,” the boaster wemt on, *1 can do anything I undertake.’ ' The other had lost patience. “Ah, that proves ome thing only—<that you have excellent judgment ' “\What da you mean?” the young lady asked, . “In undertaking nethifg you ean net do!” was the reply turn at making the day’s entries in the log-book, and the mate, when making his entfics, wie¢ very surprised to find, in the captain’s hand-writing, the words : “June 2d, 1917—Mate drunk.” He stared at it wrathfully a moment, then a slow grin broke over his face. He took his pen and wrote: June 3rd, 1917—Captain sober. ——— el Not That Far. Two &uluhmen who had been bosom ner. The meeting was not over-joyful. “Why, er, eh? Gracious, h And in a restaurant “Yes,” replied” the his friend, sarcastically eat here, thank ;;vm)nns” old man, you down to a wait : Havé Tall 10 “but 1 don’t So bld He. The other evening George Robey waé walking towards the Hippodrome when a powerful man whom he did not know cifie up from belind, slapped him heav- ily on the shoulder, and exclaimed: “Oh, sorry; ene else. “I wish thought you were Some- I had he departed, shoulder. hunc! up the injurced —_— Neither \xh\h-d This is the way a certain commercial traveler received a lesson in manners. He called at a business office and saw nobody but a prepdssessing though capa- ble-looking young woman. “Where's the bo¢s” he acked; abrupt-’ ly. ert English.” Evelyn . smiled. boarder here in the winter is'to de en .Qn_an. Qperation.. some time this She and I are alone in the world for cach ather, and,I— was saving m ey for the operation. At the river “hadg't fayed: quite enough—and shes was waiting! I knew somebody’d Judge Felts children if T didn't. Nettie—I'm a poor swimmer—I di care, once I thought—" he paused. Florence was looking at him, her. dry, her soul in her eyes. “Your cots] —you are going to marry her, Fred? “Marry Nettie?” The words ém from him wonderingly. “Why, ) is the same as my sister. There’s one girl I'm waiting to msarry,":his eyel rested eloquently upon her wogkdng face, © and for months, she, the gi had the presumption to Tove, has th e ] me a miser and a coward!” Florence: was -sobbing. “»D.n‘l% proach me Fred. I love you so—I you sol” Fred's fine eyes glowed. “If 1 ju had the use of my arms!”-he mourne} “But yot—can't you—sweetheart?” . Florence’s arms went round lns and her lips to his. One day mc&hefl of coal occupying people’s minds, three g handsotne s chap who chmg nghtly to the n hand, stepped ‘frto a-Hmousine: - “Happy, dear?” wfit’e«d Jemeso he drew her close '.o"lum. after .' ing tight the door.” e “Indesctibably.And you?” “There is ohly one day that 1 dt So the littlé-ker voice and lips thrilled him through gm to compare with this in the sublime )oy" 5 “And thas “Was &e'aay fma our young ¢l Lheduywhenlwokeuptothefm ive, the day, I t e et W B S o b et negs The ol'igin of the tankard took pli many 380 _whep the water use the dawq’o( London ‘was - men, who made use of lron-baund bs ets ‘of wood ho[dinz three zallm FqY £ listed-in the service of the house,” apdm looking at hlrn frankly ‘she caught a! curious answcnng gleam in his.eye. A week passed. A week of snow-' shoeing mornings, sleighing afternoons and corn-popping, nut-cracking even- ings—a weeck of unfeigned pleasure to both—a week of which both ‘knew in their hearts the inevitable result. ; The night before Evelyn's' departuré English came into the room and %at down by the fire opposite her. “May 1 ride back to town with you tomorrow?” he asked. “Why, of course; T shall be glad.” She tossed him an apple, and the. glow of the firc bronzed the wind-colored checks, .and touched her hair. Suddenly the man leaned forward. ard I want t6 talk to tomebody about it.” “And you would rather talk to a gen- tleman ?” “Yes.™ “Well, answered the young woman, smiling sweetly, “so would 1.. But it seems that it's impossible for either one of us to have our wish, s¢ we'll have to make the best of it State your busingss, please!” SR} TAT v Bessie’y Jdea, ¢ Bessie had ;ust remvcd a bright new “prochaidied- u(e myfim of “two' young' society pérsopages, undearneath were, the picfures. girl, of course, was*herself; the Chauncy, Smith, wriften unmis under; but the picture was t.hat of ert English. “Did ‘you run away, too?” shg up. “I did, 100,” he answered. gy . ~Pocket Adder. A pocket adding machin weighs but two ounces and may be ried in the vest pocket, fits in the g of the hand when calculations are b made. who was calling at the house. “T ‘thotight about that” said “but I think I will buy the iceed for myself and let the ice cream! give the moncy to the missionafi Here, Men. A showily dressed woma ting™ i 4 tram, when a qu ‘soldier in gemng in acud!ntfl’h her dress. utestand i