Newspaper Page Text
Tuesday, December 3 q 1924
.
• LLlXan °mi»».....mnrnTm iiiii i iiiii i,. 1
* -• the second fiddle
H
In Wh ** the Powerful Influence of Example Does
Much to Develop Independence.
I
By ELEANOR PORTER
Author -of “ Pollyanna, M 44 Just David,” Etc.
' axxxxxxx *xvaxxxxxr EteSnor R poner
A T .' h : t flrst r all£ sound of the step or
* below Kate Denn J
Ie -
er «t. a delicate flusli
„„ t .
in her .' er ebeeks an d a new lighi
„ J es She listened,
n mo H ion . less untu ' the * standing
tlrred whl of the
w Hurriedly f, she her into life.
crossed the room tc
a ," d patted with shaking
g the already smooth waves oi
her pale yellow hair. From the lace
hastily, hLfrT thr substituting v ° at Sh< ‘ tore the blue bow
to replace It a plnk one-mil,
blue. almost at once wIth the
Her gown at back and waist
Ut with !fn n her 6eves still she shaking touched tentatively
plainly nothing fingers; when
else could be done to
make perfection more perfect, she
urned and waited, her expectant eyes
on the closed door leading from her
chamber to' the hall.
Two three, five minutes passed.
e su dued confusion of an entrance
anc t e sound of voices had
up from the hall below, but all was
silent now Three more minutes Kate
_
ennj watted. Surprise, doubt, and a
Tightened questioning came in turn
o her eyes; then resolution, as she
softly crossed the room and opened
A light laugh floated the stair-! |
and deeper up
way, a note answered.
The girl drew back, half closing the
door.
Then It was true. He had casne,
und she had not been summoned to go
down. Edith was there, however—
that light laugh had been hers.
. .
ho it was’-to be the 1 old story over
again. If Edith wanted it, she must
have It, whether It were a jam tart i
—,
or the exclusive attention of an eve- j
nlng caller.
Always It' had been like that; and ;
always she, Kate, bad taken the sub
ordinate place, together with the
small er—tarK---
Resolutely Kate Denny opened the
door wider and took one step into the
hall.
Well, fi’hy not? That was John
Kennison down there. He bad come
to see her.
Irresolutely the girl still stood de
bating the matter, when the twang of
a violin string came from tlie room
below and seemed to end all hesita
tion. With swift steps and heightened
color, Kate Denny tripped down the
stairs and entered the brightly lighted
living-room. John Kennison rose at
once, an almost boyish eagerness In
ids glance, Edith Denny turned
slowly. Her eyes carried a barely
Iierceptible annoyance.
Oh, here’s pate,” she said. “You’re
just i in time, Kate, to turn the music.”
John Kennison played first violin In
a large city orchestra. He stood now
close to the piano, his instrument in
his hand, and his eyes longingly fixed
on Kate Denny.
“It’s a ooSicerto. I was going t» try
it a bit,” he began eagerly. “You
know,* I brought the piano score last
week. Y'ou said you’d-”
“Yes, it’s right here, Mr. Keimiscm,”
Interrupted Edith, ' brightly. “And
we’d love to play It With you. ■OYiroe,
Kate.”
For one brief Instant Kate almost
relielled. John Kennison had ashed
her to practice that score, and she
had practiced it for hours nt n time
untiTlt was at her finger tips; yet she
was expected to stand patiently by
and turn the leaves for Edith.
“But. Edith ” hesitated Kate, “don't
you think it would be better if I
“Nonsense! of course you can turn
the music, Kate," laughed her sister,
airily. “Don’t be timid! Come.**
It was not a success—tin 1 playing of
tliat concerto. From start to finish it
was an agitated scramble on the part
of each piayer to find and keep step
With the other. At the conclusion
Edith laughed hysterically, Kate bit
tier lips in open confusion, and John
Kennlson readied for hi« handkerchief
to wipe the perspiration frun ills face.
A moment later Edith suggested
that they try a popular love song to
Which she knew the accompaniment;
and with a fervent “Yea. do; If yo»
iplease 1" the man raised hi* violin to
(Position.
,For half an hour then Kate eat in
i,corner.and listened to ragtime, and
to ;tbe brilliant sallies of her *!ster
Edith, who was entertaining Jolw JKen
nieou. A little later, cake was brought
in—ncake that Edifih said she Jiad
made.; and at the wottds Kate thought
at :tl*e kitchen that morning wife
Edith, idatnty In a fre*h frock, stand
ing at «he shelf, stirring gingerly at a
mncoctfen, not one Ingredient of whlefc
had been put In without minute In
Btructiou* from the elder alster.
After the cake had heen eaten and
Inly praised, there was mar* music,
then John Kennlson rose hr go home..
He said good-by, and looked at Rate i
.ovtngly; but before she could answer,
Edith interposed a merry question; |
and it was Edith who went with him
to the door, and who asked him to
:on» again.
In her own room that night Kate
Denny confronted the thing^qunrely. !
Behind set teeth she said:
“I will not give up John Kennison.
cSdltb shall not have him—to play with,
»id toss aside! No! »*
Then, alone. In the dark, she IduslBid
i
a shamed red, and began to lash her
self with scorn.
Had she, indeed, fallen so low as to
be ready to quarrel over a man, as a
dog would fight, for a bone? Doubt
less, anyway, John 'Kennlson preferred
Edith.
It was merely another case of the
smaller tart.
Alter all, was there not such a thing
as too much self-sacrifice, too continual
self-repression? A certain amount, of
course, was beautiful, virtuous, and
altogether commendable, but might
there not eouie a point where they
became actually a fosterer of other
people’s selfishness, and a sin agaiir.it
one’s own individuality? As if a
perpetual seeder of raisins and eater
of chicken wings could live a full.
free life—a life that really brought
out tlie best within one’s self and
within nne’M tvth.w men' men. in,teen, indeed
no! And there should be a Change—a
rightabout face. She would see to it
that there was With sweet, gentle,
yet firm dignity, she would 1 take her
rightful place.
And with this thought in mind, Kate
Denny rose to iter feet, prepared her
self for bed, and then ■ determinedly
raised her window before opening the
connecting door leading to her sister’s
room. *
As expected, she did not have long
to wait.
“Kate!” called her sister. 71
’■’Yes, Edith.”
“Where's all that wind coming
from?”
"From my 'window, perhaps; It’s
open.
“Open! Why, Kate Denny, you
have your window open! it
"I'know I don’t; but I'thought I
tonight. I wanted the air. »i
«« But it’s so cold! I’m half-frozen.
Do you want me to catch my death of
cold?” ~
“Why, no, of—of course not,” mur
mured Kate. Involuntarily she started
to get out of bed; then suddenly she
fell hack. With stern resolution she
wet her dry lips and said, “If you're
cold, Edith, why don't you pul! up an
other blanket?”
4* 4 Cold!’ ‘Another blanket V Why,
Kate, what are you thinking of, when
you know how I hate a lot of stuffy
clothes over me! I never knew you
to act like this! Well, If you won’t
shut it, 1 shall—that's aUT” And the
swift patter of bare feet and the de
termined Ivang of the window sash told
that Edith had made good her word.
“There ■m exclaimed an aggrievedly
triumphant voice, as the patter re
treated through the open doorway.
On the bed Kate Denny made -on*
nx-we effort to rise—to catch the fleet
ing “sweet, gentle, yet firm dignity”
of bar promise .to herself; then wearily
she fell hack.
“After alii it’ll he easier to begin
tomorrow In .daylight when—when I’m
up ami dressed,” she told herself. “Be
xirtes. there won’t he anything so hard
jig tlijut window is, to—assert iny rights
al>o lit."
“Tomorrow,” however, ymwved that
-dignity hail neitlier to do with day
light uor being dressed, *nd that
whether it were ira open window or a
pmoffanad invitation about which one
wished to assert one’s self, there was
no variation in ifihe difficulty «f doing
it.
r'tSbe ’ laid arisen , early and started
breakfast (in spite of it being Edith’s
week to perform that duty). JShe had
wakhed the dishes while Edith went to
market, because Edith liked te go to
marifcet—when it was pleasant. When
it rained, Kate herself went. As usual,
she had tidied the kitchen and the
bathroom, leaving the lighter dusting
to Edith and her mother, who pre
ferred that kind. As usual, toe. at
luncheon, she had given the golden
brown crusts of her ■ rolls to Edith,
not because she herself did not like
golden-brow® crusts, but because Edith
always wanted them. To be sure, Kate
had tried to keep them .herself todaa !
taut Edith ntaeUc'l for them as a mat
(er of course—and got them.
•At two i i’Hoe a -Jtdm- Kmm lgon - ca me
with the invitation lo so sleighing
Kate was dre*ait.g, and Edith had goo*
to the door. Kate could i hear now
what her sister I4.0I called, «wt merrily,
sauefey :
"Ofc, she’s busy, JJr. Kenoison; but
I’ll g*t. I’ll be rhait out.”
Kate .had run then swiftly into the
upper ball, and had .uttered wane sort
of protest. But Editfc hud only laughed
and answered scornfully:
it Why, Kate, you Mere busy—you
know you were! You were drewing.
purely, yog don’t want ine to change
toow, and—and tell him .you won’t tot
«ae go, do y«u?
Kate had murmured a faint “No, of
eoiwse not,” gnd had «rept hack,
astwmed, Into Her ow n room. And not
tint# she had hoard the sleifjb-bells go
Jingling down the road did she remem
ber that "sweet, gentle, yet Ann dig
nity" that vvus to leave been hers that
day.
It was of tliis, ail tills, that Kate
wjisi thinking now, us she dressed for
Hie concert that evening. The concert
war. to be a grand affair in town, given
by John Kennison’s orchestra. John
Kennison was only, one of the eight
irst violins in that orchestra, but to
GRIFFIN DAILY NLWS
the Dennys the “philharmonic '* wne
tUwu.' luwuvK •‘John Kennison's orchestra,”
s%d »»1 «s ' sueli Its concerts wen; enthu-’
sinatleuliy welcomed, Tonight, how
ever, there was no animation, no joy
lit Kate Denny's lace ns she dressed
herself; nor ditl even the anticipatory
rustle and hunt-of the concert room
itself bring tin answering flash or spar
kle us she waited for the tlrst nutnher
tat the programme. \
This was tier mood when a chance
conversation between two men in front
of her aroused « mild sort of interest
* “Who is that long-haired, dreamy
eyed creature caressing his fiddle as if
il were the dear child of his heart?”
asked one man of the other.
Almost unconsciously Kate Denny
turned her head to catch the reply.
She, too, had often Idly wondered
about that particular dreamy-eyed vio
linist.
“That? Oh, that's Bronoffsky.”
“Queer-looking chap! Good player?"
“Hm-m—well, yes, he Is. Still—he’s
only a second fiddle up there, you
know. 'He plays second violin.’’ There
was a moment’s pause, then, hnlf mus
Ingly, the voice went on: “Do you
know, it’s rather funny about that fel
low, Bronoffsky. He is possessed and
consumed by one mad ambition; he
wants to lead, direct, — be a conductor,
you know.”
“Well, why doesn't he?”
1 P ^ ’ a
coll]dnt! Bronoffsky’s a dreamer, , not .
11 dot ‘ r - He can P la - V - sure—second
fiddle - But he hasn t the nlldlence
sense; he doesn’t know how to handle
^ H e doesn’t know how to hold ,
thirty, forty, fifty instruments at the
tip of a little black stick. All his life
he’s Been controlled, not In control.
Ail his life he’s done another’s will,
not his own. Great Scott! man, Bron
offsky is—is just what you see, a flrst
rate second fiddle!”
There was-a burst of applause—the
leader of the Philharmonic had ap
peared on the platform. A moment
later came the electric hush that fol
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For -Ore Brief Instant Kate Almost
Rebelled.
low* the tap of the con-due'or's baton;
then .-wounded u long, quivering note
from' .tile first violins.
Biit.nll this Kate Her my. neither saw
.:w>r .beard. Behind tlie two men who
had talked of Bronoffsky -she sat tense
arid .motionless, her eyes staring
straight ahead, her ears hearing cAily
tttre words that had just been spoken:
“ATI his life he’s been controlled, not
in control. All ills life feels done an
other'* .-will, not his own. '.Bronoffsky
is—is just what you see, m t^-st-rate
second fiddle!”
So that was all she was. or could
ebev hope to be—a second fiddle.
Suddenly, now, Kate Denny became
conscious of the music from the plat
form, it hajl dropped to pianissimo,
yet clcariy, sweetly, the melody still
ran through it like a silver thread.
Fainter ;and yet more faint it grew,
until only an airy, swaying cobweb of
sound floated from the leader's baton.
There .was a moment’s Breathless
hush, then .deafening applause.. In
seat Kate Denny relaxed suddenly.
With the strains of that perfect music
still In her .ears, she declared to her
self that only pelflshness, pure selfish
ness. had made her rebel at getting
Edith's breakfast, washing
dishes, aud .eating Edith's bison it
centers: and . only selfish ness *,guiw
had grudged Edith the sleigh-ride with
John Kenniaoo .that afternoon.
. was not, indeed,, .exactly a new course
of reasoning for Kate Denny to pursue.
Nhe had argued along the game lines
toefore. But tonight, especially, still
euder the sway of those marvelously
attended harmonies, ohe could see noth
ing but well-deserved ifallure for any
Moond fiddle who attempted to
Ills <own Individuality.
Owe by one the days esune and
To Edith and her mother -.they seemed
not wnlike many other days long
passed. To Kate Denny they were
hardly dissimilar, except, perhaps, for
the growing frequency of John Kenni
son’s visits. Not that she herself saw
so much at ihim, but that she knew he
wus there, said that his presence began
to meqn so much to her that she was
frightened.
Very conscientiously these days
Denny was leaving to Edith the crisp
mown of the biscuits, and the
j five attentions of John Kennison—
voth of which Edith claimed as her
-ight, janyway: “There were times,
ae Bilie, when Kate almost
when (she declared to herself that it
j rtu * UJt » u 'uiige, or unwomanly, or
even selfish that she should not like
always to be doing the drudgery, or
always to be giving up her will about
every little matter, or always to be
handing over to another woman the
flowers, drives, calls, and candy that
seemed originally intended for herself.
But Invariably, even though Inwardly
she did rebel, outwardly she was still
the self-sacrificing, self-effacing sister,
As it chanced, it was after a day of
this Inward rebellion that Kate Denny
vfent once again with her family to a 1
concert by the Philharmonic. There
was the same anticipatory hum and
stir in the audience, but on the stage— i
on the stage, even Kate could see that
something unusual had happened, or
was about to happen. One by one the
musicians Were taking their places,
hut not in the quiet, orderly way that
was customary. They were plainly
hurried, nervous, excited. One stum
bled against a music-rack, and another
dropped his bow to the floor. Some
talked earnestly together ; others sut
silently apart, an odd look almost like
disdain on their faces. Bronoffsky,
for whom Kate looked at once, was no
where to be seen. She was wondering
at this, when unexpectedly John Ken
nison appeared In the aisle by her
seat.
"I came down a minute to tell you,”
he began excitedly in a low voice.
“Last night Rossi—the leader, you
thrown out of his auto and
hurt rather badly. Kepple, the concert
master, was with him, and he was
knocked out, too, for tonight. And
do you think—? Itossl sent word
that Bronoffsky - Bronoffsky should
conduct tonight!”
it Who’s Bron — Bron — what’s his
demanded Edith, pettishly.
And Kate, to whom John Kennison's
words had been addressed, for once
jrejolced ioddly stirred In her sister’s she Interposition, herself at John so
was
[Kennison’s words.
“Why, he's one of the second violins,
hecend !*‘tan, violins,” repeated Kennlson,
long-haired chap with big black
oyes. You’ll remember when you aee
jhfm. I must go, but I wanted to tell
you,'' hurried ^he man, turning again
to Kate, “something's going to happen,
%ut (putting Just what, I don't know. He’s been
us through our paces all the
morning, 'back and—well, you’ll aee,” flung
Kennlson as he hurried away.
Five minutes later the orchestra
Were all In their places; then from the
wings stepped a tall, durk-halred man,
and Kate Denny's heart gave a heavy,
suffocating throb. A patter of hanfl
clapping greeted the man’s appearance,
but almost instantly died Into silence—
the claps had been intended for Rossi
—and this man was not Rossi. Kate
Denny, watching him with suspended
breath, wondered If ’he cared.
Tne man himself did not look as If
he cared, or as if he even heard. With
head and shoulders erect he was mak
ing for the stand. His face was whltu,
and his jaw firm-set; but there was
that in his eyes that caused the girl to
I glow suddenly as with hidden fire.
) For a tense instant ’ Bronoffsky , mo
I tionless upon his stand, faced his.
| orchestra; then slowly he raised his
baton.
True to John Kennison’s prophecy,
something did happen that evening.
The orchestra knew that never before
had they played as they were playing
now—with such passion, such power,
such a oneness «f purpose.
The audience knew only that
before had they heard forty instru
ments sound so exactly as one.
The critics—-between the numbers
the critics talked enthusiastically of
the new leader who had that night
been born. From their lips dropped
learned phrases: He did not over
drive his orchestra; he sought no urc
due din of brass and drum; he was
careful of the quality as well as the
quantity of tone; he had balance,
poise, power; be ordered the pace of
his music Judiciously, and he moulded
its phrases with a masterly hand.
And yet—neither orchestra nor au
dience nor learned critics were quite
so much moved as was a certain young
woman in an orchestra chair nine rows
from tlie front. Her head was erect,
tier eyes were shining like stars, and
her mouth was eCrted in a smile tlmt
some way seemed to carry an elation
all out of proportion to any cause.
For, had you asked her, she would
have said that it was all because of
one I.cyn Bronoffsky, second .violinist,
who that night had led the orchestra.
For Edith Denny that evening there
came two surprises. One surprise wag
when she found herself unaccountably
walking out of tile concert hall with
her mother, while ahead Kate and John
Kennison walked together.
The second surprise! came later,
when Kate, nearly ready for bed.’aiF
peared nt the connect!*,g, door between
their rooms. ,
"Edith,” iiegan Kate /Cheerfully, ‘’I’m
going to close this door tonight. I
want my window open, .and you don’t,
you know; so If I close the door we’ll
Ihotli be satisfied. Goodnight.' And
she shut the door.
Kor one amazed instant Edith stood
and stared at the closed door; then
abe darted forward, her hand reaching
far -the knob.
“Why, Kate, what are you thinking
of, when you know I never sleep with
out that door open,” she cried. Tbe
next moment she fell back weakly—
the door was locked. "Why, Kate!”
There was no answer, but a moment
later there came from Kate’s room n
little tremulous melody that sounded
for all the world like the whistle of a
I small boy who Is trying to keep op
his courage In the dark,
Long after Edith had gone petu
lantly to bed, the melody still haunted
her, hut she could not place It, until
suddenly she recollected it’ was the
opening phrase of the overture that
the orchestra had played flrst that
iflght under the new lender’s directing,
jr.;
i -T ; TtTTy^ i T it T »mzxxiiitrx xxxxzxxr xr
8 A FOUR FOOTED
H FAITH AND A TWO
«
",
*
, jj In Which the Love of a Dog Far Outshines That of a
< Master, Who Doesn't Deserve the Title.
J PORTER
* J By ELEANOR
Author of " Pollyanna, »* «« Just David,” Etc.
TX 7 ITH neat celerity Miss B. put
* * the tiny rooms in order, and
then went out into the store to “open
tip." It was seven o'clock, and Hayden't
Notion Store always opened at seven.
As usual this morning Miss B. left*
the outer door wide open while she re
moved the dust-cloth from the counter,
and patted ihto precision the cards of
hooks-and-eyes In their orderly rows
of boxes. The act was symbolical of
her whole life—always had Miss B.
patted Into precision any Irregular
hopes, ambitions, or experiences that
had ever dared to obtrude a corner
Into her habit-smoothed existence. -
She turned now complacently to
view her work—and confronted a
man: a disorderly looking man who
had stumbled through the doorwny.
und who was gazing at her now with
the eyes of a hunted animal at bay.
For Owl's sake—don’t give me
awayhe begged. The next moment
he had dashed by her and dropped out
of sight behind the counter.
The woman caught her breath and
rubbed her eyes dazedly. She was sure
she was dreaming. There could not
be a man, really, behind that counter—
her counter!
Outside a swarm of men and boys
headed by two policemen swept into
the street and broke Into Irresolute
little groups. Then one of the officers
darkened her doorway.
You didn't see a big, dark haired
chap, runnIn’, did ye?" he panted.
"Bill thought he’d made fur this door
way. He might ha’ slipped In when
yer back was turned, ye know. If ye
don’t mind, we’ll look." And he strode
across the room, leaving his colleague
to guard the door.
It was then that the extraordinary
happened : Miss B. deliberately turned
and walked behind her counter; and
when she had taken up her position
her skirts entirely screened the hiding
man. s
The blinding was a small one. It
comprised the store, with a bedroom,
bathroom and living-room behind ft,
and a wide, unfinished room above
where wiere a few surplus goods, j
trunks and boxes. A search In this
limited area naturally could not be of
long duration ; and the officer was soon
back in the store.
You’re off, BUI,” he growled. “He
ain’t here. Thank ye, ma’am,” he
nodded toward the woman behind the
counter. The next moment the (Joor
banged shut, and tlie gesticulating men
and boys took themselves noisily out
of sight.
In the store the woman backed hur
rietily away from her jwsitlon. All the
bravery bad fled from her manner,
She stood white and trembling, wait
Ing.
There — was a moment’s silence, then
from the shadows peered a man's face.
They gone?”
Yes.
Tlie man gazed at her curiously;
then his eyes softened.
“See here, little woman, you sure
was game,” he murmured. "But—why
did you do it?’
Tlie woman shook her head.
“I—don’t—know,” she stammered.
«» You don’t know?”
Again she shook her head.
- Y'our eyes—they looked somehow
like—Bobby’s,” she faltered.
The man smiled.
“I’m sure I’m much obliged to—
Bobby, he said gravely.
"You see, there was a dog after him,
just like those men were after you, • <
explained the woman, hurriedly; “and
lie run to me for protection Just as
you d!d. I kept him then almost u
year.”
"You kept him!”
“Yes. Then he died. He’d got to be*
a real big cat then, though. ••
“Oh-h !” murmured the man. “Oh-h !”
And he was such a good cat I He
always—sh-h—be careful!”
Tlie warning was scarcely needed,
for tlie man, too, had heard the step
at the street door, and had drawn
hack hustlly.„................ X .......... ■ ___________
The customer was a woman. She
said she wanted a spool of number
sixty thread; but A spent Just one,
minute buying that—and ten minutes
talking about the recent excitement.
Not that she knew who the fugitive
was, or what he had done.
“You aee,” shivered Miss B., tremu
lously addressing the dark corner a
moment later, “you’ll really have to
go—man!”
Two repneachful eyes look«d out at
lier.
But, my d«ar lady. I’ve just come.”
But they’re looking tor you—every
where I ■ •
"They are—Uke doge, for my life.”
It was a trial toot, but It hit the mark.
Miss B. winced visibly. "You see, if
I oould Just eemp here till dark,"
went on the men softly, hurrying to
follow up his advantage.
"Till dark—here! No, no!” shud
dered the woman.
-of course not. here, under the
counter,” agreed the man, crawling
from his hiding-place and rising to his
“but In there—'behind the store,
Sure, little woman, you ain’t goln’
*“ | ek on be—now!”
But I must! You couldn't! You—
cun!” she broke off frenzledly. leaping
fiw
to the door that led to ihe rear room
and throwing it wide open. A moment
later she stood shaking, alone, her
hack against the closed door. Then
the street door opened and a woman
entered.
“Why, land o’ love, Miss B., don't
Jump so. It’s only me,” laughed the
newcomer. "Did ye think It was the
man they’re chasin’? He’S gone ages
ago, i'll warrant ,ve. Ray, I want some
black elnstlc—the round kind. Got
any?”
"Yes," said Miss B, faintly, as she
forced her shaking limbs to carry her
to the elastic-box behind the counter.
ter.
Trade was good at Hayden’s Notion
that morning. The rush of cus
gossip—gave Miss B. no
Indeed, to attend to that fear
secret behind her living-room
noon; Then she managed timidly
to open tite door and peer into the
little room. At once she stepped In
side and shut the door very quickly,
her eyes wide with surprise and terror.
The man stood before the stove
scrambling eggs. The table was neat
ly set for two, and the room smelt
pleasantly of coffee and baked pota
toes.
“Getting hungry?” smiled the man.
“It's 'most ready. I thought you'd be
cornin' In now.
Miss B. molstPned her dry lips and
tried to speak, but no sound cam*.
11 If you’ll Just sit down,” suggested
the man, cheerfully, motioning her
toward the nearer chair.
The woman shook her head. This
time she spoke, but her words were
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“You Didn't See • Big, Dark-Haired
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not at all what she had supposed they
would be.
“It’s broken—that chair.”
“Not much it Is!” laughed the roan,
whisking the chair bottom side up. “I
mended it—sec. Now try it,” he or
dered a moment later.
The afternoon was but a repetition
of the forenoon except that now Miss
B. utterly refused to discuss the morn
ing’s excitement with one of the daw
dling shoppers. At live o’clock she
found an opportunity to open the liv
ing-room door and toss the evening
paper, which had just come, on to the
table. She had not read the paper,
but she had seen that there were huge
blpek headlines. She could imagine
what those headlines said.
At six o’clock Miss B., with a sigh
of relief, closed and locked the store.
In the living-room only silence and
exqulRlte order greeted her. Even the
newspaper was gone, and the man was
no where. totmsew, - ..................................—r—
“WtimT are you?” called Miss B.
sharply.
There was no answer.
With heightened color and com
pressed lips Mjfs B. crossed the floor
to her bedroom door. If he had
dared—
But he had not dared, apparently.
The room was exactly as she had left
it that morning. Miss B. turned then
her steps toward the stairway that led
to the unfinished storeroom above. At
the top she paused, and peered into
the shadowy room before her. On the
floor lay the proatrate figure of a man.
A loose board under her feet cracked
sharply, and the man sprang half up
right. At the sheer terror that leaped
to his eyes Miss B. shuddered and
drew back.
“You needn’t fear. ,It’s only I,” she
faltered timidly—and site had meant
to be so stern!
The man, too, shuddered.
“I must have dropped asleep—a
minute,” he muttered. “I thought—”
He did not finish his sentence, and
after a moment the woman spoke
again, unsteadily.
“t’ome; you must have something to
eat—before you go.” And she led the
way down thejdnlrs.