The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 4, 1903, Page 10

object to ss Bun- elsewhere that ng to find out if I would marry Miss Paxton?” y you want lislodge an idea from y s n He sald this al- 1 and so greatly and so long had s . respected him that } : . ered her. It is not t 1 man can explain,” she s [ be persuaded to t would wreck r wishes 1 n more if you could tell w. Well her. What he aba s this idea?” s he aba s this idea.’ I were a pauper she cried, alr state of mind, madam, . Jack to marTy as he pleases, least, will be & pauper—rela- if I, instead of Jack, could suffer age our business of affairs with in- real head of the kous " f, alone; #t re me be respected for w he does, not for his income; fc x at s of PRb. 1 fulness »d; be strong for v . r E because r ¢ 1 right without fos passionately poured forth this t s were whe: r husband was - the lawvyer ck its in the indict- = red to himself, *8| kr st as well as 1 . F bowe e assent and e v at 1 ve dreamed of for my s my first-born, my oo ox c 1 . £ ng a man’s work in the w b b e lawyer asks me to make a I shall do he 4l ¥ y times what t to be worth, but 1 and. Our negotia- tior a secret, and a B ware of the weak- ness fon and s bidding against Still Bunton refuses to ade a proposition to me gant we cannot consider we need what he offers. I this to you that you hat I now tell you suggested the acquisition y by the common expedient known as ‘marrying it.” He submitted the suggestion to me, and e “1 approved.” “Oh, oh!” “But madam, I have changed my mind Yes, yes!" “I should not again advise your hus- band as I did. I belleve that there is some point involved in the title to that land, which when it is revealed would convince Mr. Worthington that Bunton would not make a desirable connection by mar- riage.” “That is Mr. Bannister's way of saying what I sald—you believe Bunton is a ras- cal. TIs it not so?" “The inference is yours; I shall not con- ert 1t* en you will help me?’ “Is there mot much to comsider first, even admitting the inference you have drawn?”’ “Consider what? Tell John that Bunton is a rascal. My husband’s actions can be depended upon where a question of honor is-involved. Surely, sir!” “Surely, madam. But I shall not tell him that Bunton is & rascal.” “Why, in God's name?"” “'Because I cannot prove it. Let us con- sider the case from Mr. Worthington’, viewpoint: Supposing Jack marries Miss Stnton—is it certain that he would be unhappy in the relation? A marriage of tre convenience, as you suggested, permits the husband to seek the soclety of other wo for the recreation his home does mot afford. We have known of such cases, you and I, when the world, aware ©of the facts, has not been too censorious. Buch & marriage would leave Mr. Worth- ipgton’s will undisturbed and afford Jack opportunity to achleve the career you so earnestly hope for him, and which, I am bound to sey, he shows good signs of winning—if he is given the opportunity.” “You suggest to me a plan that would maoke my son a faithless husband. You would not do so unless you thought me capable of furthering such a plan. That sounds like a very hard judgment upon me as & mother, Mr. Bannister.” “Is it unjust?” he asked quietly. She was silent for a time and then an- ewered as quietly: “No. I would consent to such a marriage—urge it if necessary— rather than give up my ambition for my oldest son—God forgive me! But the girl! The girl would bring shame upon us!” A servant entered and sald, “Mr. Worthington has come.in, madam, and asks If you are engaged.” “Say that T am here with Mr. Bannis. ter and that I should Hke to see him here.” When John Worthington entered the room a moment later they both noticed bis appearance. The lawyer looked at him keenly, and his wife went toward him hurriedly, saying, “Age you fll, John? BT e Ly ey ?&:‘ 4 GBE 7! L4 11 G, SR 2 “No, Nan. No, no!” but he lsaned on her arm as he went to a chalr, saying, “I am glad that you are here, Bannister. I wanted to see you. I did not know that you were in town.” “I did not go to the office,” the lawyer sald. “I know. I inauired. I hoped to see you. I have had a*talk with Jack. On a personal matter. But I wished your ad- vice o give you some instructions, rather, in the same relation.” He spoae with an effort: both physical and mental, it seemed. His head hung down, and he appeared unable to lift even his eyes as he talked Mr. Bannister had been nearer than anyone else to the real human being con- ed in the shell of institutionalism en- closing John Wortl He knew that such as they the soul and sensibiiities which distinguish a human , or a document of throbbed after & manner witt nd he had come, after long vears of close assocla- tion, to feel a sense.of human sympathy for them—a friendly feeling, strangely ged with compassion ung—who nows?—from a consclousness t they d feebly forced through this bonded, stocked, gyndicated, listed and gq ehell and directed toward him, Caleb Bannister, a living, human sentiment: a trusting dependence, that makes up In part the preclous “phase of mental dls- position” called affection, “I think, Worthington,” the lawyer said, “‘that if you have any business to discuss we'd better postpone it until to-morrow."” The Great Man shook his head, but not impatiently, slowly but decisively, and the lawyer added, “at least until after dinner. You have been working hard to- v, and look t'red. T'Il remain here to- if Mrs. Worthington will put me being from a franch incorporation, to remaln, Bannister, very 1 talk now. I'm not f1." head with an effort. T v of my plan for his spoke to Jack - marriage. I wish to speak to you now, of t s d you, too, Nan.,"” ‘Yes, John: but not now. Let me have served first, and then you lfe down | dinner. Mr. Bannister will stay all night and after dinner we can talk, when You are rested,” his wife urged. They could not move him from his pur- pPose to talk then of the idea dearer to him than any other he had ever enter- talned—h's very own. “I am disposed to Iscuss this matter, now,” he persisted. “T wish speak you both, for it Is a matter Involving all our inter 1- ness and famlly I fled, In inter- view with Jack mise to son's at- 1de distresses me. " T have de- Sreatly o upon You, Bannister, must explain to Jack. Coming from you, our most trusted adviser, it will impress k fferently. Than if h's mother or T oke. I mean. Jack may have a reason- e time to declde. You are to tell him Bannicter, and this: #f he refuses Ply with my wigh fa s on welfare of me of Rupert bstituted in m Is o law compe est son in that has inher- t and ising his voice strugkling not to he felt show her has been led ke the pl s been specia view in mind for that career f it; bee: that e that ame of and hon- ored as it is She word, pert in the lawy t al ¢f warnin at her with ris' 1skily, “Go on. ple ht to, make any 1 departure from . for which there is a ck were determined to was objectivnable, T e with you; but to say to the family custon g00d reason. If J marry & woman w could sympathi him, ‘You must marry this one woman,' s unreasonable, when it goes without saying that there are many others as good—better—he might marry. That is more than an unreasonable limit upon his choice, it is an unjust limit.” “The lack of reasonableness, Nan,” her husband said, speaking slowly, though he seemed to try to hurry his words, “does not lie with me. You ignore the peculiar circumstances that make 1t entirely re: sonable for me to demanda of Jack this marriage. But what is ail this pother about?”’ he cried, a sudden excitement glving him strength to speak quickly and sharply. ““What is the objection to the young lady I have selected? Is she not as deeirable as another?” “No, she is not!” Mrs. Worthington de- clared, fast losing control or her feelings. “Why 7 ‘Her tastes are common!" “Oh!” he sneered, “that is a woman’s reason. Is there any reason a man can understand? Bannister has no objection. “He has!” the woman cried desperately, hoping to gain the aid of the lawyer to her side. - “Indeed? Well, Bannister?” “I again suggest that we postpone this subject until to-morrow.” “And I insist that we finish the subject now,” Worthington declared, pounding the arm of his chair feebly. “I have no advice to give,” the lawye: said, speaking quietly. “But I make this suggestion: Let me continue my negotia- tions with Bunton a little longer. We may find something that will make this mar- riage seem less desirable than it does now. Your doctor has advised a trip to the Mediterranean on your yacht. Take that trip now. In the meantime I will keep at work with Bunton. “If any one but you had failed in set- tling the matter with Bunton,” Worthing- ton said, “I should hope that it might be settled. But you have failed. That means that it is & waste of time to continue on that line. The delay is most dangerous. The opposition to my plan is silly. I say it is silly! My mind is finally made up. I wish to have Jack and at once, of my intention in regard to my will, If he remains disobedient it is my duty to the affairs of the family to put Rupert at once in touch with the interests he 1s to control.” “Listen to me, John! Listen to me a moment!” cried his wife. “It will break my heart not to have our first-born go on with his career. Ne, no, hear me. If in a little time—a month—I cannot show you that the woman you have selected for Jack's wife is unworthy of him I will consent to the marriage, will urge it, rather thaa have his prospects blighted.” “This s hysterical, Nan. I have seen goung lady as you. nsent to have her spled her, upen; for all I know led I'll not e hat could be : of evil to thwart my Do you hint that I would lead excitedly, That T mean,” he interrupted 1 have made vp my mind! ter, that I direct you to draw up will, and have it ready for me to , it my son continues to defy—to de— his lips moving, but no them. Bannister sound escaping from sprang to his side and held him or he would have slipped 1o the carpet. Mrs. Worthington darted to an electric bell that would have summoned servants. But she was stopped by the lawyer saying in a voice of sharp command: “No! Not a servant. His condition must not become known to the public—not until the doctor has been here. Go yourself, quietly, and telephone for the doctor. See thatno serv- art comes here. Hurry, but be calm.” eft the room Bannister, big When s powerful, lifted the unconscious form ntly lald it on a lounge. Then he d into the room where a maid was afternoon tea service, asked for a s of water, drank it and asked for an- other. This he walked back with, as if he had not satisfied his thirst. He quick- ly loosened Worthington's scarf ‘and col- lar, bathed his temples with water, and soon was able to give him some of it to drink. Worthington, staring straight up at the celling, feebly felt for the lawyer's hand and closed his fingers over it. In a little while he whispered in a low, heavy voice, “Caleb.” Yes, John." “Don’t leave.” “No. Don’t try to talk.” “Did I fall? Did something strike me?" He was still staring, with troubled, frightened eyes, and spoke so low the lawyer had to bend close to his lips to hear. “You were a little faint. The doctor . Worthington Bhe'll be here directly.” “Don’t leave, Caleb.” “No. “Friend.” The doctor did not call it apoplexy, but said something about premonitory symp- toms and gaye orders for absolute quiet. Then he talked with Mr. Bannister, and told his patfent that, as soon as his yacht could be made ready, he must sall away on' it for a couple of months, at least, and avold even the dilcussion of business affairs or of any topic that might distress him. “I will obey you,'” the patient said, “after I have given Mr, Bannister one instruction.” “If it relates to the subject under dis- cussion when you were—overcome—I for- bid it,” the doctor said. A But he persisted, and told the lawyer that as soon as the yacht cruise was be-- gun Jack was to be informed of his father’s intention regarding the will, which would be carried out on his return from the cruise, if at that time his son's engagement to Miss Bunton was not an- nounced. XIII-THE LAST WARNING. Howard Paxton’s position on the staff of the Chronicle was not so much altered during the summer months. Sometimes a few paragraphs of his comments on current events were left out, or some verses on which he had done hard work falled to appear, and his weekly bills were reduced to the extent of the unused matter. He never falled to write the ten is telephoning. THE SUNDAY “eo (O s, ADDRED & AS FASI Az JOU CAN columns of matter on which his weekly compengation of one hundred and fifty dollars wus based, but ‘for a time made no complaint that his envelope each weelk contained a gradually diminishing sum. He had started their plans in New York by giving Grace half his earnings, and when these became smaller he continued to give her each week seventy-five dol- lars. What shall T do with it all,” she had sald, at first. “If I have it I'm afrald that T'll spend it all, and that would be wicked.” ““Save it,”" answered herbrother. “That's what I prepose to do with a lot of my half of this boundless wealth.” But they both found a boundary, and not very far off. Howard's extravagance Was in books. The shops where his be- loved poets were to be found printed on guch paper and bound in such leather as he deemed worthy of them were attrac- tlons he could not withstand. And mu- slc was expensive; always expensive, if not always good. Grace, with no more desire to be we! dressed than every handsome wuma: !: entitled to .feel, at first found an easy way to dispose of a large part of How- ard's generous aillowance in the fairy shops she passed on her way to the school in Twenty-third street. But when she began to learn the life truggle stories that were being lived by many of the students at the school sHe had a more gratifying use for her good fortune. It was not easy-at first to find a w. to help the girls she knew were literally starving, in the struggle to keep in the echool until they had learned enough of some kind of decorative work to sup- port themselves—and others! But w.th Howard's advice, and the help of some of the older students, Grace managed to find a way to help, where pride was strorg and must not be offended. It was hecause he knew how Grace was using much of her allowance and how deep- ly she enjoyed the privilege to do so, that Howard would not let her know of the frequent éhrinkage in his earnings. This was but a temporary trouble, he thought; there would be more space in ‘the paper after the olections. He dld not at first avail himself of Proprietor Faulkner's offer to set things right if ever they should go wrong, for he disliked to as- sume the role of a complaining workman. But a change was made in the “make- up” of the page on which his department was printed, that cut even his reduced earuings In half. The width of the col- umns on that page were doubled, and the number of words which had made a col- umn now made but a half a column. Howard, therefore, in making out his weekly bill, charged thirty, instead of fif- teen dollars a column. His bill was re- duced one-half by the auditor. He went to that official and asked an explanation. “My Instructions are that vou are to be paid at the rate of fifteen dollars a col- umn,” ‘tne man sald shortly. “But since my arrangement with Mr. Carzon was made, the width of the col- umns on my page has been doubled. It takes just twice as much of my matter to fill it.” “I have no other instructions than I have told you.” Howard went to Mr. Carson. ““Well, Paxton, I don’t see exactly what we can do about that,” Carson said. “Our agreement {s fifteen dollars a column, and a column is a column.” “And a thousand words are a thousand words, not two thousand words,” sald Howard, “Was said in our agreement about a word rate?’ Carson asked with a smile. B Howard, not trusting himself to speak, turned and left the room of the manag- ing editor, and sought an Interview with Mr. Faulkner, the proprietor. But then, and several times later, he was told th: Mr. Faulkner was engaged. So he to Faulkner, calling his attention to the fact that his already reduced pay had been cut in two and reminding him of his request to be told if there was any trouble. In reply Howard recelved this letter signed by Mr. Faulkner's secre- tary: “I am instructed by Mr, Faulkner to it to atte: minor details of the several departments stale to you that is him personally impossible: for d to the many of the paper, but that Mr. Carson will of course abide by any agreement he has made with any member of the staff It took Howard a long time and a great deal of hard thinking before he realized what these experiences meant. He had so littie to do in his life plete rascals that it was like s problem in an unstudied grade of matics for him to determine the antity of villainy he now encountered. The sim- ple and few rules with which his temper- ament equipped him to judge badness in man failed to answer this demand, and he went to Turnbull for help. 5 “You said one time that Carson was an honest man and that you knew it, and he knew that you knew it. Do you mind tell- ing me now how much of a thief that re- mark implied Carson to be?” he asked Turnbull one day “Did I make ‘that remark to you?" Turnbull asked, turning his handsome face toward Howard with interest, but no surprise. “You did.” 'hen, of course, I was drunk at the time."” u may have been,” Howard replied, declding that he would be as frank as he hoped Turnbull would be. ‘‘Have they begun to rob you?”’ Turn- bull asked, laying down his pen and push- ing his chalr back from his desk. “Yes.' Turnbull looked at his office mate for some time in silence and then said, “It vou have finished your work let us go out on the bridge and take a waik. Iam disposed to tell you a story—a funny story.” The rush hour on the Brooklyn bridge had not yet begun, and most of the peo- ple on the promenade were ldle strollers, though now and then one was seen who was plainly trying to steady a wavering spirit, and with mind fixed by calm de- termination—or madness—take the trou- ble-curing leap over the rail into the river. It was mid-October, the still air was like early June and the beautiful sister cities on either side were radiantly aglow with sunlight. “Lovely day,” Turnbull remarked, as he stopped In the arch of the first tower to light a cigar. “Tog fair a world to leave while life affords a chance to do a kind- ness to a fellow creature, or continue the pleasure of the acquaintance of two such honest men as Faulkner and Carson.” He stopped to glance at his companion, but Howard knew the man’s moods pretty well now and patiently waited for him to come to the story he knew he was deter- mined to tell. Often during the past months Turnbull had shown a half pur pose to warn Howard, it seemed, or give him some advice, but always abandoned the thought with a cynical shrug; and now Howard saw that he would speak in his own time and in his own way, so he walted confldently. Turnbull approached the subject a dozen times, but would turn from it to call attention to some beauty of the river or bay or the light clouds over Staten Island, already beginning to reflect the fire of the low southerly sun. At last he put his arm thri and, walking slowly, sal as you did. I had not been copled so much, was not so well known and was promised less, but the circum- stances were allke. I was less of an orange, and sooner squeezed. They began to rob me; they slowly killed my capacity for work by a thou- sand petty meannesses, and when I could not do the work I was emploved to do; when I learned that a man whose name is associated with the Chronicle not wanted on any other paper; when I saw that I had no remedy in law—for I had no contract—I thought with joy of killing those two men. But my dear old mother, whose quiet days of peace and rest de- pended upon my work, would have had no more peace or quiet, if I had in the luxury of killing. So I took the drudgery work they give even a #queezed orange; but starve as I might, and slave as I did, there was the prospect of my mother starving, too, and it was not agreeable. Really, Paxton, it wasn't. Funny story, isn't it? Then I took to walking this bridge—ilke that hunted looking fellow, gazing at the river—but it.won’t do, when one has a dear woman, mother or sister, depending upon his cour- age, to do so cowardly a thing as to gaze at that water until its call becomes irre- stiBl ‘One day T learned facts about a cer- tain corporation which, if published, would canse the corporation a an and loss. I wrote the story. I was I that It was a fine story, and was allowed to collect pay for it, though It was never printed. Boon afterward I was sent t-n see Caleb Bannister about a proposed fron combine, apd he, with a frankness that 1s characteristic of him, told m al had recently withdrawn as counsel for a corporation because its officers refused !‘n act on his advice to resist a Chronicle blackmailing scheme. That explains it- self to you, of course: it was the story I wrote that Carson took to the corpora- tion, and demanded hush money for. Bannister advised against payment, the officers were timid; and that corpora tion is now numbered among the many that pay regular blackmail to Mr. Faulk- ner, and pay irregular tribute to the hon- est Carson, also. Well, one day when I had no money to buy food with, but still had friends to buy me drink I went to Carson—in drink—and asked for an ad- vance of $100. He sneered first; but then laughed, for he is clever enough to enjoy & drunken joke, and told me so. Yes, be- sides telling me that I was a drunken joke, he told me to leave the office, and not return. Then I told him what Mr. Bannister hald told me. I got what I arked for, I always do, money and work. But Paxton, I swear to you by my mother that I repay with my work every dollar that I get from Carson. A small solace for a miserable wretch; but such as it is T wanted you to know. I shall not explain to you why I have told you of my shame; you of all men I should prefer not to know. But it is better for you to know why you must leave that office than that you should continue to think me a man fit to speak to. If you can, without vio- lence to your consclence, refraln from telling your sister what manner of man I am, I shall be repald for the struggle it has cost to expose myself to you that you may escape from that settlement of moral lepers before despondency and despera- tion sap even your strong moral fiber.” As Turnbull finished his story, they reached the Brooklyn pler of the bridge, and as they turned to walk back his com- nno panion dropped Howard's arm, and they walked on for some time In silence. Howard spoke first, say- ing thoughtfully, “Tell me again, please, abovt the money and work you get from the paper.” Turnbull looked up hopefully at the words, and answered eagerly, “I hold a whip over the men who, by galling mean- ness and dishonesty, have nearly driven me to suiclde. They have killed some men that way. I crack that whip—and I firmly belleve Mr. Eannister put it Into my hands for that purpose—to raake them me work. I will have work, and I will bave all the money I earn by it, and have it when I want it. That is all. It is a petty use of my power, if you like, but it is not dishonest—not by the standard of morals which must be adopted by an one dealing with them. I do good work work that would sell in any other office, 1f T was not barred In all other offices. I am not defending my course, but I want vou to understand that I do not take a dollar that I do not earn.” “I do not believe,” Howard sald ly, “that T jud r actions as harshly as you do ¥ “Thank you,” They went to thelr workroom, where Howard gathered his belongings, a few working books, for he had determined to quit the office at once. He was starting for the door with his bundle when Car- son entered. ‘Paxton, I've sent for you a dezen times. You ought to keep office nbull said. ke roughly, but Howard made no . “But I'm glad I've found you,” Carson continued. “The chief has or- dered your department work discontinued, but we've decided to give you a chance on local stories. Fortunately, I've thought of a rattling story for you to do.” Howard remained silent, looking at the man with contempt, and Carson glanced from him to Turnbuil, a little nervously. But Turnbull seemed to be writing and aying no heed to the managing editor. I hear from our soclety reporter that ou have been a frequent visitor at the Bannisters." Howard started a little, and Turnbull swung round in his chair. “Now, what I want you to do—and it will make a big hit with the chief—is to write us a Sun- day page story about that family. Go into every detail about their eccentrici- ties. Howard tossed his bundle onto & chair, and drew on a loose pair of gloves, but there was nothing in his manner to warn Carson of the meaning of this, and he warmed to his subject. “Our society man tells me that there is a big story in that v, and Bannister’s prominence as the lawyer, and Mrs. Ban- soclal prominence, justifies a big spread on the story. They say that Ban- nister drivesround the country dressed like a farmer; but we want more of the home life. You can't tell us too many detalls. What they eat, how they dress at home, all about their servants, their talk—why, we'll give you a page and a half, if you can fill it. The chief will be delighted. Oh, yes! don't forget to tell all about the eccentricities of Bannister's gypsy daughter — what's her name? — Madge, and—" The man of slow wrath was aroused, at last. Howard's gloved fist shot out, and Carson staggered back against the door, and slipped to the floor, his face bleed- ing. Howard, seeing red, sprang at him, but his arms were held by Turn- bull, who said quietly, “That's enough, Paxton, Be quiet, I say! You've scarred him. That's all you wanted to do. Not maim him! Not a public scan- dal” Then he whispered, “For your sister to hear,” and Howard ceased to struggle, and turned away. “You fool!” Turnbull sald to Carson. “Not'to see what you were bringing on yourselt.” He helped him to his feet and wiped the blood from his cheek. “You're discharged, Paxton!” Carson cried. “But that {sn’t all: I'll have a war- rant against you for this cowardly as- sault!” ‘‘Oh, no, you won't!” Turnbull sald. “Now get out.” Carson left the room, and Howard sald: “Thank you for saving me. I could net help doing what I did. “Of course not,” Turnbull replied “Good-by." Howard stepped into the hall, and in his excitement ran Into a little girl, or woman. He dropped his bundle and caught her in his arms to save her from falling and discovered that she was ery- ing. “Oh, I'm so sorry!” “Dia I hurt you?" “No, sir; no, sir; not a bit,” she re- sponded, checking her sobs. \ He had often met her in the halls and elevators; & hunchback, with a wan, worn face, but his habit of always gresting her ‘with & cheerful smile and word had made her smiie in return when they ' met. “Why! It's my cheerful little friend,” he now sald. “You must tell me what you erying for.” She would not until he had kindly urged her, then she sald, “It's our pay day and my envelope was & quarter of a dollar short.” ‘Yes, and what was that for?” “I'm in the circular addressing room, and the other girls send me on errands becathe it tires me to sit long.” “Yes. I've seen you. You go after their coffes and sandwiches.” “Yes, sir. Mr. Carson saw me on one of errands, and asked me why I was not work. I told him the gir 2 sion to send to the r when they worked owv: no extra p: for § his busi plac wage: him . feeling for care so much,” the girl con h burst of tears, ’ing, and brot h sea food, and: ges to pay the y wages are 33 4 just the rent, and I don't do now that I bave-only 1 what we'll 40," How- ally, “and no ons bug w anything about ft; v A will make up regard for Mr. rifty Fa er's He gave the woman & dollar bl which, however, she accepted only after Howard agreed to let her repay it, whem she had saved it out of her wages 14 weeks when Dbrother Harry's sea food trade was good and sister Bessle W dancing."” “But,” sald Howard, shaking Dlands with her, “you must promise to let me know if Mr. Carson guts down your pay again, in his zeal for economy, and you need another small loan.” “I will, thank you, Mr. Paxton,” she sald earnestly. “Oh, you know my name? What i “Nora, sir: Nora Day. The reason I ‘want to return this to you is—is"= She stopped, confused. = “Is what, Nora?" “Perhaps I oughtn’t to tell, sir, but & girl in our room knows a ty_swriting girt in Mr. Carson's department, and we've he: that your pay has been cut, teo. Mr. Carson makes a list of all the sums he stops out of pay envelopes each weelt and sends it to Mr. Faulkner, to show how smart he Anyway, that's the story the typewriter girl tells the girl in our room.” “Well, Nora,” Howard sald, smiling bit- terly as he saw the girls fear even as she whispered the names of Carson and’ Faulkner, “we must not gossip about sued, great and good men, lest we do them an injustice.” “No, sir,” she sald, “only that's talk all over the office. You've made me very bappy, Mr. Paxton; for now I'v¢ enough for the rent, and something over for food.” - Howard watched her cpooked little fy’ ure h ha bble down the hall, and t opened the door and re-ente r Turnbull was sea head resting on his as if he slept, b ard's step he “Come back laying & han “I've come you for ar gave »ple to let you work, ard e work you do.” 4 s head and nodded pleasantly ard left the He walked ly office of the Cuardia what sald about no reputabie paper employing & man who bad worked on the staff of the Chronicle, but it did not euter his mind that this rule was general. He easily understood that such migh be quoted to Turnbull, ngs, by a considerate edi‘or o whom Turnbull appiied When he was sober Turnbull d work and was reliable Buwx and they were likely to be times most depended upon. he for w did go: at times pear not y from the office but fr ne city, or at least from ths sight 1 who knew hiw. Howard had more than once sought Turnbull at such times and taken care of him, finding him less difficult to manage than did most men. This unfortunate falling of the max’ was known in all newspaper offloes would close their doors to him, as How: ard knew; so he did not apply Turnbull's experience in seeking employment to him- self. With a feeling of elation he had nd% experienced for weeks, he went to tis Guardian office and sent his to the managing editor. The ing space for visitors was rated from the main editorial by a rail only, and Howard saw a num- ber of men quietly at work, quite a dif- ferent class of men from those on the Chronicle, working in a very different at- mosphere. Some, whom he had met at the club, nodded to him pleasantly, and two or three came to the rall to speak to him. When he was told that the managing editor would see him, he found that gen- tleman, Mr. Prince, seated at & desk In the main room. He greeted Howard =i a way which sent his already refreshed spirits soaring. ‘““You've not beea neigh- borly, Mr. Paxton,” Mr. Prince sald, pointing to a visitor's chalr by the side of his desk. “Draw up that chalrj there's something 1 want to see you abeut par- ticularly. I'm glad te know you, for you wrote me a very nice letter from Whirs River, though your dJdecision was not what we hoped for.” “My decision was not based om & very good knowledge of newspaper offices here,” Howard sald. Mr. Prince looked at him sharply for an instant, seemed to be relieved at How- ard’s confident smile, and continued, “Let - me explain my espectal reason for wanting to see you, before I forget; club is to give soon its annual authe reading night. The committee has asked me to secure you. There will be no pro- fessional entertainers, you understand, and you will be the guest of the club at dinner, if you will accept our Invitajlon, and be asked to read only one or two se lections of your verses. How does the idea strike you “Very pleasantly,” Howard replied, beaming, “that s, If you think I can blunder through my verses acceptably.” “Then that's settled; I'll tell the c. mittee to count on you. Youw'll receive its formal Invitation shortly. Now tell me how do you find New York and ‘live jour nalism?" " “That is what I've come to speak : you about,” Howard sald, and " ) Prince's face clouded at the words. “I'v come to offer my services to you." Howard saw his answer before it was spoken. An unmistakable look of dfstress came into Mr. Prince’s kindly face, a he was silent a moment before he %aid lowering his voice, so that ft would not be overheard by others In the roc “Mr. Paxton, I am sincerely sorry to h to tell you this; I have not the power (o make a single exception to a rule, mads by the proprietor of this paper, t no man who has ever worked on the Ch icle can ever be employed here. 1 will say frankly that if it were possihle 0 make an exception I would glad!y maks one in your case.” There was a touch of pity in his volcs that was intolerable to Howard and he rose quickly, saying, “I thank yo Good-day,” and left the room. ‘t He was seized by a panic of fear when he reached the street, “Grace!” Besides his earnings he had already used up half of their fortune of $1000 he had brought from White River. He lashed himself i