The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 19, 1904, Page 14

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. s as he glanced up at the b from the window. From th ttling sky flakes of snow v g to whiten the tops of f el.pty freig ad to go home to t. I'd rather 1 th t in the s oman. Is that t for expressing law's pros- t com i Y You're a welcome I s getting nervous; really it's v sitting here alone. Ev the instrfment calls, I t trouble!” Poor Dickson! Wi vou suppose killed him, Jack? or some ruffian? All alone in dreaming of such a g then—Great Heaven! I W in't take your job for,ten dollars You ought to have some one Harry!” Lawson threw off ring of their love that he must pay gage upon his farm before and have at least wctly a week rhen he methods. The »dist church were e purpose of Mft- e from the church time before Mrs. An- ared that the church ce of debt within a eved that this fair he last $200. fore the f of Carson came badges bearing the letters to in- he mystic import of the: ha s o6 not be learned. The ol formation elic w that Frank Harper was its president, and wt it 1 make its object known s duly opened. Half a 1 celebrities made speeches three two o an dozen married men mdde purchases from their wives and dalighters who were stan stalls. Then there see a It Mrs. Anderson who m the discovery that there was not an unmarried ‘man in the room. Every young girl in Carson was pres- ent, either as a saleswoman or visitor, but there was not a bachelor in sight. The married men turned to manfully and bought what they could afford, but by half past 9 most of the crowd had gove and the receipts counted up $17 60. The next morning various young gentlemen solemnly expressed regret that they had been unable to attend and promised to get around that evening if they could. Evidently they féund it difficult, for the second night of the fair was even duller than the first. Many of the married men had stiyed at home, and in desperation Mrs. Anderson commanded her hus- band to see if he could not find some of the young men and induce them to come over. It was not long before Anderson was back, his face wreathed s smiles. “Most of the boys are In the vacant postoffice,” he re- meeting discuss certain to them to come over?” declined the invi- Anderson, with lips that Ander- 1 am going over t I think of tell the boys breaking up r 1 K said Ana with a ne, which twinkling that they would be very It is not in any sense pr ater she G. 8. C. was being with elab- i th especial pleasure,” in his capacity as we welcome you to feel that it is to ery existence.” Mrs. Anderson help- I never heard of the e other day.” ” continued Harper, on tried to get as 7 wife as he could, his tell-tale it is to you forming the club said lese, of idea that the young on should pledge each rry until the prospec- had a home and $5000 While it is not probable ich conditions many of fford 1o marry before we are recognize the brilllancy of that us ¢ fifty yvour idea, which you, yourself, have declared is destined w0 reach from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We feel the eyes of the country will that shortly be turned toward Carson and have anized, supplementary to the Get Something Club, Our members are pledged to attend no entertainment, to spend no money feolishly until we have each saved up by this means the $5000 and the home demanded by your disciples.” “But,” interrupted Mrs. Anderson half tearfully, “I want you to come over to the fair and help make it a declared e “we the president < have thirty-seven names on our roll. Each might have spent from five to ten dollars, so we shali hold meetings of the club every evening Wduring the fair to keep out of temptation. That means at least $185 saved toward the $185,000 we #hall have to accumulate to follow out your admirable ideas. We feel that this duty—" Unable to restrain himself longer, Jack Anderson interrupted the speech with a shout of laughter, in which even his wife had to join. She turned to Harper. “See here, Frank Harper,” she sald energetically, “you disband this club, come over and make the fair a suc- cess and I'll disband the Provident Home Cilub to-morrow.” She was true to her word, but more than one pledge was broken that very night. Zven Rose Wilder, who was presiding at the household table, held out an attractive spread, saying, “Don’t you want to buy this, Frank?” “What's the use?” he protested. “I have no wife to give it to!” Rose blushed very prettily. “You might have the wife—Iif you bought the quilt. T take back all I said, and rn 't‘ake back the ring, if you will let me. That night on the way home Mrs. Anderson was struck by an idea. “ ‘Get Something’ was a funny name for the title of that club.” “I think,” said Anderson, “that the ‘something’ they were to get was to get square.” his coat. boy. “You need seasoning, Dickson's was a case of a man who carried a wad and bragged of,it. Bound to lose his money some tifne. That might have occurred on the street or in his bed. Merely happened to be conve- nient to nab him at his table. Tough? I know, but when you've been ten years in this business one poor devil going suddenly isn’t a subject to get nervous prostration over. The big accidents are what shake a chap.” “But the way of it, Jack. The idea—" “Oh, trot along home, lad. I've noth- ing to attract marauders except my —~— good looks. No one will bother me. Often some fellow drops in for a chat, and Bourne relieves me at midnight. Much obliged for your ‘spelling’ me, Harry. It gives me a chance for sup- per at the house, and when a man's married—" He stopped, with a shrug of his broad shoulders, adding in a dif- ferent tone, “All clear?” ““All clear, Jack. Everything on time. Number 78 went through at 6:45. Fast freight due to pass in ten minutes. Good-by. Take care of yourself.” “Likely boy,” commented Lawson, filling his pipe and sitting down. “Good as any of 'em already; safe and level- headed. Got nervous, did he? Not the only one on the line, 1 guess. We all «carry a ‘pop’ now. I must say it's a handy companion.” » 0z Gop” a5 e anoagrs ; - E O 77 K8 Ferson . man, brushing his sleeves. e ticked off a message, rose, gazed out, grinned, felt of his hip pocket and scowled. “Thunder!” he exclaimed. “I forgot it. Confound Kate! She drove every- thing out of my head. 3 Nothing but his “good looks.” The man who stepped inside a half hour later to greet the operator cordially and to seat himself ungracefully was not in search of money. Lawson supposed Sharpson was “over it.” Lately the disappointed lover had appeared very friendly, even to calling twice at the house. Kate had made him welcome. It was non- sense, the way Sharpson had acted be- fore the wedding, but his eccentric temper only rendered him a butt for ridicule; A short, thick - set, slouch- ing man, black of sparse beard and small, close-set eyes, he held but sorry chances in the lists with John Lawson. A foolish conceit, surely, that Kate Bartley cared for him, and would have been his but for the arrival of the big stranger from Wheeler Junction, who promptly and effectively captured the affections of the ticket agent's daughter. Six months, now, and the wrath of Sharpson forgotten. “Bad night,” remarked that gentle- “Thought | THE FINE ART OF REEPING SWEET O keep sweet amid a hundred and one distractions and irritations, not to go to pleces over trifles, and when heavy loads and big problems come still to be serene and sunny—this {s the finest of fine arts. Do we give half enough attention to its cultivation? Don't we think that it is a good deal more important to make 2 lot of money, to get on in our profes- sion, to succeed in politics, to acquire social position, to write a book? All excellent things in their way, but to accomplish them at the sacrifice of one’s sweetness of spirit is, after all, not the best thing in life. Really, now, how can any one d0 more good than by keeping sweet? You don't have to cross the ocean or wait until next week to begin.. You don’t have to acquire a college education first. You can start this morning to practice the art. You are working in the midst of people who constantly ruffie your tem- per? Well, then, if you can keep sweet you will be a marked man and a mighty influential one, too, in that office or in that factory. You, a father, are rounding the corner at night after an exceptionally aggravating day in business, but there looms in sight your home—a haven of refuge. How are you going to carry yourself for the next twelve or fifteen hours there? You may not carry home much money in your pocket, you may be dreading the strain that awaits you to-morrow with the opening of a new business day, but this much you can carry home—a sweet spirit. You can grit your teeth and say, “Come what will, I will be kind and decent to my own.” Sweetness does not mean absence of — strength. It is out from the strong maple that the sugary sap trickles in spring days. Indeed, sweetness is a component element of all strong na- tures. President Eliot of Harvard Uni- versity is a shining example of this. He has had more than his ordinary share of fighting to do. He has been misunderstood and misrepresented, but his urbanity has been unfailing, his plain and gentle way of stating unwel- come truths, of championing unpopular positions, has had much to do with converting people to his way of think- ing. Sweetness of spirit does not mean namby-pamby-ness; it is the velvet glove under which is the iron hang It is a kind of buffer which strong na- tures interpose lctween themselves and the world's hardness. \ “Keeping sweet? Why, that is easy enough,” says some one. Just try it on, then, friend, for half a day. THE PARSON. * chat. Out with it, Ir'd drop in & moment and warm up be- fore my tramp.” “Where are you bound for? much of & night for a walk.” “Right, it ain’t. Oh! I've got to go clear out to Dashell’s. He's sick and I'ntf on his job. Some things I wanted to ask him.” “That’s a lovely stretch; a blamed lonesome road, Seth. You go by that Polish settlement, don’t you? Say, they're an uneasy gang, all down on everybody connected with the road. Better wait till to-morrow. I would.” “Can’t do it,” he complained. “Wish I could, but I must report™o the boss at 5 a m. As you say, Jack, it ain’t safe for one of us fellers to go trail- ing out there in the dark. I've no weapon, either. Say, I'll be back by 11 o’clock. . You couldn’t spare me your gun till “then, could you? I suppose you've got one.” “Seth, I left the blamed thing at home. Came away in a hurry, and never thought of it. Too bad! ot course, I'd "have lent it to you. Been gldd to. Go around to the house and ask Kate for it.” The caller looked down, shaking his 'Tisn't head. “No,” sald he; “it's a fifteen- minute walk, and out of my way. I'll step along, I guess, and take my chances ‘before it gets later. The wind is rising from the way those wires hum. I'll be going, Jack, and maybe drop In on my return. You're & lucky dog to be housed and warm. T'll think of you when I'm rubbing my ebrs.” He laughed strangely, turned up the collar of his heavy ulster, nodded and departed. 2 Outside, Sharpson, did not start in the direction of Dashnell's remote home. Instead, he picked his way across the tracks and climbed Into an empty car. “They’ll meet me here,” he growled. “I've luck for once!™ An hour later Lawson turned as the door opened softly. - “Kate!” he cried, startled. the matter?” “I've brought your pistol, Fack. I got to worrying. I—I'm sorry, dear. ‘Won't you kiss me now?” “There, there!” soothed the man, all his anger vanished, as she shivered and “What's gobbed In his arms. “You should never have come out in this m too. I'll have to keep ¥y arrives. We will sit he up.'”* He laughed and fervently. The big revolver was hand, as he playfully pushed her from his knee with his left, bigding her move the damp cloak, and he faced the door as it again swung open to ad- mit three masked figures, pushing In hastily. A cool man was Lawson, quick and an unerring marksman. He took no chances. A woman's scream echoed above the deafening explosions. Through the smoke, and loud over the heavy groans from the huddled heap rose the steady voice of the operator. “Keep qulet, girl! I've nailed the whole bunch! Striding to the sprawled figures he tore at the masks roughly. “Good God!”" came his shocked words. “One of them’'s Sharpson! I—I don’t understand. Those other men are a couple of brutes from the Polish settlement.” After help had arrived In response to his startling message, and the man who could -whisper kept muttering, Lawson bent his head to catch the husky murmur. “Ve vas paid to do 1t.” “Eh? sald the operator. man who robbed Dickson?” The matted shock of a head moved affirmatively. A pale-faced young man hurried te Lawson’s side. “Your wife is asking for you, Jack. Better take her home. T'll tend to the 'work. Ain't this awful ?” 4 “Might have been worse,” answered “By the his friend, grimly. Much obliged, Harry. Il get this little woman right out. Sharpson’s gone; the others will live. Say, boy, If you ever refuse to kiss your wife good- just forget to take along your gun.” Harry stared at him, not compre- hending, but he knows the story now, and every man on the D. P. & L. sys- tem has told his wife the tale of Kate Lawson's good-by kiss and how she saved her husband. | HER CHRISTIAN NAME B | By Beverly Smith pr- s L ILENCE was—to quote from Jimmile Spencer—Henry Wal- cot’'s “long suit.” There was a great bond of friendship between the two; per- haps they followed in this the law that opposites attract each other. For Jim- mie Spencer was the reverse of Henry ‘Walcot in almost every particular. Where Henry was tall and dark, Jim- mie was rather the medium height, and so inclined to rotundity of figure that his face, beaming always with good humor, inevitably suggested to n observer the qualifying adjective hubby.” “Why do I like Henry so well?” sald Jimmie one day in reply to a question. “Because he 1s such a j~lly fellow and knows how to keep his mouth shut. Say, do you know,” growing suddz‘enly enthusiastic, “Henry can speak Eng- lish, German and Spanish, but, by Jove! he knows how to keep quiet in about fourteen other languages, not C ing dialects and slang.” LD‘“‘\;‘V‘hngO I like Jimmie?” said Henry, musingly. “Because he is a jolly good fellow and knows how to talk, 1 sup- P they sat now in front of a cheer- ful fire in Walcot's rooms, smoking and talking. Jimmie was chatting away as usual, but there was something a bit distraught in his manner which did not escape the keen eye of his friend. By and by, even Jimmie's fund of small talk semed exhatlxsled, and each sat 3 and musing. hn}‘;"::fi Henry who broke the silence. “Sit up, Jimmie, and talk out like a man,” said he, with a laugh. You know yon never tramped all the way up here in the snow and then climbed three flights of stairs just to have a man! What have you »n your mind gqu”u“Ir\m}" looked up queerly, and‘ c.stch- ing the friendly gleam in the ulk‘.lt r's eye he laughed himself and replied: “No dedging you, you sly dog! I be:l lieve you are a mind-reafler, anyhow. “Perhaps 1 do a bit in that line now and then,” answered Henry, ‘;\:llh an assumption of great mystery, ‘“and to prove 1t to you, I will tell you that you came up here for no other purpose than to tell me that you have gone and got urself engaged.” s v, lm?v in thunder did you know asked Jimmie, sitting up In as- ishment. = m'r}!{ou look guilty,” answered Henry, with one of his peculiar, almost inau- i chuckles. dl'l?ltsutli lnever told you that I was even paying attention to the girl whom I am to have the honor of marrying, declared Jimmie, protestingly. "Yuu could not have had any idea of it. “Now, Jimmie, my boy, do give me cradit for using my powers of observa- tion occasionally,” protested Henry. “So!” said Jimmie, “then maybe you have used them tarI nough to-tell me e of the girl.” m'?lr:::gnubtedly can,” averred Henry, solemnly. “Stunted as my powers of observation may be, they have been sufficiently powerful to enable me to declare that the young lady in question is none other than Miss Preston.” This prescience wa$ too much for Jimmie, who simply stared open- mouthed at his chuckling tormentor. “That's the worst of you close- mouthed people,” said he presently, with an air of deep disgust. “Youmsit around and don’t say a word and all the while you are keeping close tab on everything and everybody. Then when a fellow comes around to tell you a plece of important news, you take the wind all out of his sails with your air of world-wide knowledge and con- sclousness of his most intimate thoughts. I must say that I think you might have pretended ignorance. Now, I'll just keep quiet about the matter.” And Jimmie resolutely shut his mouth and turned again to his cigar. “Now, Jimmie,” sald Walcot, with dignity, “don’t be any more of a chump than usual. You &know you are so full of the subject that you have just got to talk. So fire away.” And Jimmie did fire away presently, the subject having got the better of his resolve. But, Henry, all natural prefudice aside, I just can't belleve my good luck. To think that she cept me, when any man—why, ried you, old cf how fallen in love wi love ot with another made Jimmie look up quickly Walcot was gazing into the cheerful fire and there was his face as Jimmi d never seen. mercurial youngster was on his feet in an instant and rushed over to Wal- cot. “By Jove, old chap, so you have been Indulging in a love affair and didn’t even take me, your best friend, into your confidence! I call that shameful of you, but I am deuced glad to know that you are In love, after all. Take my word for it, old chap, there’s nothing like 1t in all the world. “Easy, boy, easy,” said Walcot, with & quiet smile that may have concealed some embarrassment. “I haven't con- fessed to any love affair yet. And as for confidences, remember that you told me nothing ¢f yours until you were actually engaged. Even good friends like you and me don't talk over such affairs. However, I may have— hope to have—some good news te tell you soon.” How soon?” “Who can say?” “Have you proposed to her?™ No, but I intend to do so.” “Good boy! Go in and win. If you want a certificate of good character, call on me. I am always ready to tell a lie in the sacred cause of friendship.” And Jimmie's infectious laugh took all sting away from the remark. * Once more fell a period of silence and Jimmie broke it with: “Did you r notice the color of her eyes, Henry?"” « * answered Henry, with an air of amusement. “They are blue, aren’t they ?” “No, indeed,” sald Jimmie somewhat indignantly. ‘They ars a wondertul deep gray; almost Llack.” The “Is, that so?” was the somewhat in- different reply. “Then she ‘has the same color of eyes as her cousin. I know that she has wonderful, deep gray eyes—wonderful eyes.” This last w very soft. ot at all, stupid,” sald Jimmle, vexed at so much stupidity. “Her cousin’s eyes are blue. I'll be blessed if you ever observe anything.” Jimmie himself was not observing anything, but was sitting with his gaze fixed on the heart of the flames and his mind lost fn a happy reverie. He did not see his companion look up with a quick terror in his eyes and a face drawn with emotion. Nor did he hear 2 question addressed to him. Indeed, Walcot's voice was very thick, and he hardly knew himself whether he had spoken the question aloud, or merely in his~anguish voiced it to himself. “Then you are engaged to Kate Preston?” he finally managed to say, loud enough to make his companion hear. "Cerlainlv,"’ said Jimmie in aston- ishment. “Who did you think I was engaged to—certainly not to Annie Preston ?” “I didn't know,” sald Walcot weakly. “So your mind reading wasn't so good, after all!” exclaimed Jimmie in triumph. “Well, I must be going—so long!” And he was gone. For a lomg time Walcot sat“before the fire, though his cigar went out unnoticed and was not relit. Then he slowly walked to ‘his desk and took out a letter, addressed in his own firm handwriting. Opening it he stood in front of the fire and read it through twice. I} was a pre- posal of marriage, simple, .straight- forward and winning in its declaration of great love. The letter fluttered first to the fire and the envelope followed it. Walcot standing quietly to watch them burn. One might have read the address on the envelope, even after it was caught by the flames, and that address was: ‘“Miss Kate Preston.”