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II RIVAL'SIWNFALL
Out of Bitterness the Lovers
Snatched Happiness.
By ESTHER AINSLEE.
[Copyright, 1909, by Associated Literary
Press.]
If Dalzell’s store advertised a sale of
silk dress goods in the Monday issue
of the Rosemont Banner it was a cer
tainty that the paper’s Tuesday night
number would contain an ad. from
Thompson's store across the street tell
ing of bargains in satins, with a side
line of embroideries, at which Itose
mont smiled appreciatively and reaped
the benefit.
The town was proud of the proprie
tors of the two leading dry goods
stores, for most of the young men left
for the adjacent big city when it eaiue
time to make their way in the world,
but Malcolm Dalzell and Lewis Thomp
son within a year of each otljer set
tled down to make a living in their
home town.
Perhaps it were better to say Rose
mont was proud of their enterprise, for
Lewis Thompson was not tiie type to
inspire affection in the hearts of his
townsmen. A man cannot be blamed
for lack of magnetism and an attrac
tive nature, but nevertheless lie suf
fers for it, and Thompson possessed
besides these drawbacks a hot headed,
quarrelsome disposition and a theory
that every man had a right to look out
for himself to the exclusion of any pos
sible rights of others.
His aggressiveness made him ene
mies where Malcolm Dalzell won
friends by bis mere cheerfulness and
diplomacy. But each flourished on,his
own side of the street.
Not only were they rivals in busi
ness, but from the days o£ carrying
schoolbooks there had seemingly been
but one girl in the world in the eyes
of each, Milly Wainwright, with the
waves of soft brown hair and eyes
that matched, with the sweet voice
and appealing little ways.
Shrewd people even said the reason
both boys stayed in Rosemont was that
each was afraid to leave the other a
clear field with Milly, who had never
shown any preference between the
two.
Lewis Thompson was a different
man with her. Her mere presence
smoothed and softened the aggressive
young business man, and she smiled
increduously when stories of his cold
shrewdness and overreaching deals
came to her ears.
Yet unknown to herself Malcolm
Dalzell occupied a place in her life
from which no one could dislodge him.
Milly-was in the delicious and dreamy
state of indecision which a girl always
prolongs unwittingly. Life was sweet
to her, and even the growing wildness
of her younger brother, Dick, which
was aging her father and mother, had
not power to do more than depress her
momentarily.
“It’s only because Dick is young.”
she told her mother half indignantly.
“He will see the mistake of his ways
before he ever does anything really
wrong. Why, Dick wouldn’t be really
bad. It’s absurd!”
She was great chums with the hand
some elghteen-year-old brother, and
because she did have faith in him the
boy turned to her always in his rare
spells of repentance. At present he
had gone to work in a bank in the next
town, six miles distant
The Rosemont Banner had two col
umns of description, speculation and
denunciation when Thompson’s store
was robbed. Malefactors were rare in
Rosemont, and the night watchman's
work was perfunctory, but neverthe
less Lewis Thompson discovered a
back window pried open and nearly
S2OO worth of silks and laces missing.
Three weeks later he was reduced to
explosive rage by the discovery that
again his store had been entered. This
time a hundred dollars’ worth of goods
vanished. In his wrath the owner of
the store telegraphed for a city de
tective and established a night patrol
for the block. The city detective look
ed important, smoked good cigars of
the leading citizens, who wanted to
tell him their theories as to the rob
bery, had a very pleasant time and de
parted with dark hints as to future
developments.
“At any rate,” Lewis Thompson said
vigorously, "with Maloney on hand as
a watchman the thief won’t get an
other chance!”
“It’s hard luck, Lewis,” sympathized
Malcolm Dalzell with his business ri
val. Tbompsou regarded him coldly.
Of late Milly had been In Daizell’s
company more than he liked.
“Thanks,” he said. “It’s funny the
thief doesn’t attack your premises,
Malcolm. I don’t understand such fa
foritism unless It’s because be knows
where the best goods are!” He smiled
somewhat maliciously as he made the
fling.
“Superiority has its drawbacks,
then,” Dalzell said quietly, holding his
temper. He understood Thompson’s
grudge against him and could afford to
be magnanimous, for he bad begun to
1/ :herisli_.a. certainty that be had_ dis_-
i
- Thompson with MUTy. Fob her
he would endure much.
Lewis Thompson did not relax his
vigilance as the weeks went l"’. One
Thursday night, as he made one of his
personal trips of inspection, about 1
o’clock he started for his store on a
run after rinding the watchman, Ma
loney. knocked senseless at the corner.
And lie was rewarded. The revolver
in his hand covered the dark form of
the man standing at the rear window
witli the faint gleam of a dark lantern
•m the floor beside him.
Yet even Lewis Thompson was
speechless when after ills trembling
fingers had turned on the rear light he
saw the man before him was none
other than Malcolm Dalzell, who stood
white and quiet facing his captor.
‘•I—I can't comprehend,” Thompson
almost stammered, still covering the
marauder with his revolver. “You—
of all people!”
Tiie man before him moistened his
lips. “Lewis,” lie said at last, “will
you believe me if I say, in spite of this.
I’m not the robber—that it's just un
fortunate circumstances that have
brought this about? Will you?"
Lewis Thompson recovered his cool
ness, and he laughed shortly, sarcas
tically. glancing significantly at the
dark lantern, the fallen jimmy, the
goods piled at hand for removal.
“I don’t any one but you, Dal
zell,” lie said curtly. "You’ve got to
take your medicine. You car* plead
kleptomania, you know. Rising young
business man, easy circumstances, no
need t<> rob—why, of course, it's klep
tomania!”
There was a little triumph edging
into his laugh as what this meant to
his rival dawned upon him. And it
was likewise dawning upon his cap
tive. who shut his Jaw when the mar
shal, hastily summoned, almost re
fused to obey Thompson’s command to
take the prisoner to the jail.
"Go ahead, Smith,” was all that Mal
colm Dalzell would say, and be walked
to tiie lockup with his head in the air.
The whole town shared the sensa
tions of Smith the next meriting, and
the Rosemont Banner exhausted all its
heavy black faced type that evening
and paused only for absence of more
space. It was paralyzing, horrifying,
this downfall of a man like Malcolm
Dalzell, one of those queer croppings
out of hidden tendencies that some
times destroy the world's best.
The three days that intervened be
fore bis preliminary bearing drew lines
in Dalzell's face and gave him a pallor
that usually it takes age to bring. Yet
be maintained those close shut lips
and, further than stating he was not
guilty, refused to talk.
When be faced his friends and
neighbors at the preliminary hearing
there was a trace of proud defiance in
his glance that yet was strangely hurt,
for on many faces he read a dawning
wavering in allegiance to him.
Much talk had bred suspicion, and
every one knew of the long rivalry be
tween the two men. What more natu
ral than that Dalzell should attempt to
harass, to ruin his opponent? *So they
waited for the sensational disclosures.
The sensation came. As usual with
sensations, it was quite different from
what was expected. This white faced
girl, with eyes reddened by tears, who
suddenly presented herself struck pity
from the heart of the hardest. She
spoke rapidly, breathlessly.
"Malcolm did not do it!” she protest
ed, with tight clasped hands. "If he
won’t tell I will, now that I know the
truth! It was Dick, my brother, and
Malcolm, who also was watching, saw
him and entered Thompson’s store to
save him, to get him away, to help
him, and when Lewis Thompson came
upon him—he, Malcolm, would not tell
because” —
Milly Wainwrigbt's voice died away,
but the end of the sentence was fur
nished by Malcolm Dalzell’s quick step
to her side and hiding her tears on ids
shoulder. Both had made their sacri
fice for each other and out of the bit
terness had snatched happiness. And
Rosemont, with the fickleness of the
human race, said it served Lewis
Thompson right and he should have
had more common sense.
A VERY BUSY MAN.
Charming Experience With an Over
worked Irish Watchmaker.
I fell in with a delightful man at a
little town in County Fermanagh. I
wanted a little thing done to my
watch, and I asked him how long it
would take to do it. He assured me
that he was driven to death with
work and was up till lute every night
trying to get ahead, but that he would
try to find time to mend my watch
some time before 7 o'clock, when he
nominally closed. Then he followed
me to the door of his shop and began
to ask me questions about America.
He pointed out different passersby
ami told me their life histories. And
every once in a while he would say:
“I’ve not had a day off for nearly a
year, not even bank holiday. Never a
minute for anything but work. I've
an order now that’s going to keep me
busy, except for the time I’ll give to
your watch, all the rest of the day.
And dinner eaten in my worshop to
save time.”
I bade him good day and didn't go
near there" until 7 o’eßiek In the even
ing: I found him outside the shop dis
cussing the strike of the constabulary
at Belfast with a neighbor.
“Awfully sorry, sir, but I’ve been so
busy today that I’ve been unable to
finish that job. It'll not take over
twenty miuutes when I get to it. Can
you come in the morning?”
Next morning I was at Ills shop at 0
o’clock, and he was just taking down
the shutters. Paid he worked until 10
o’clock tiie night before, but seemed
farther behind than before. If I'd
come up into his workroom he’d fix my
watch while I waited.
Up there lie had some photographs
to show me that he had taken a year
ago and had only just found time to
develop. \Ye talked photography for
twenty minutes, and then lie fixed my
watch in a jiffy when he got to work.—
From "Just Irish,” by Charles Battell
Loomis.
A VOTE OF THANKS.
The Way Dwight L. Moody Handled
the Question In England.
Fossibly the most novel response
ever made to a request to return a
vote of thanks to a chairman was that
made by Dwight I*. Moody during his
first visit to England.
lie had attended a meeting at which
the Earl of Shaftesbury was chair
man. The duty of proposing a vote of
thanks was assigned to him and the
announcement made:
"Our American cousin, the Rev. Mr.
Moody of Chicago, will now move a
vote of thanks to the noble earl who
has presided on this occasion.”
The whole thing was quite out of
Mr. Moody’s Hue. English formalities
might or might not have come grace
fully from ids lips had he attempted
them, but he did not. With an utter
disregard of conventionality lie burst
upon the audience with tiie bold an
nouncement:
"The speaker has made two mis
takes. To begin with, I'm not the
Rev. Mr. Moody at all. I’m plain
Dwight L. Moody, a Sunday school
worker. And then I'm not your Amer
ican cousin. By the grace of God I’m
your brother, interested with you in
our Father’s work for his children.
“And now about this vote of thanks
to the ‘noble earl for being our chair
man this evening.’ I don't see why
we should thank him any more than
he should thank us. When at one
time they offered to thank our Mr.
Lincoln for presiding over a meeting
in Illinois lie stopped it. lie said lie’ll
tried to do his duty and they'd tried
to do theirs. He thought it was about
an even thing all round.” *
That opening fairly took the breath
away from Mr. Moody’s hearers. Such
a talk could not be gauged by any
known standard. Mr. Moody carried
| his English audiences with him from
that Loginning to bis latest labors.
Who He Was.
At the crossing of the river Styx
Death met a stranger with a grin on
liis face.
“Who are you?” demanded Death.
"I am your manservant,” replied the
stranger.
“My manservant!” repeated Death,
somewhat puzzled to know what the
new arrival meant.
"In other words, the valet of the
shadow of Death,” chortled the stran
ger.
It is perhaps superfluous to add that
before journeying hence the stranger
had been a professional jokesmith.—
New York Times.
Three Meals at Once.
“Now. Mary,” said her mistress, "you
must come to the door of the drawing
room and say, ‘Breakfast Is ready, and
supper is ready, but dinner is served.’ ”
The newly corralled domestic in
wardly digested the concise instruc
tions and that evening convulsed the
guests who were awaiting the an
nouncement of dinner by stepping be
tween the portieres, dropping a cour
tesy and repeating, “Breakfast Is
ready and supper is ready, but dinner
Is ser-r-ved!”—Philadelphia Ledger.
Badly Expressed.
“The human monstrosity!” said a
young lady attending a fair with her
sweetheart. "Threepence! Wouldn’t
you like to have a look at that, Her
bert?”
"No, dear,” answered Herbert, anx
ious to bestow a neat compliment; "I
am quite content to look at you.”—
London Mail.
A Tart Retort.
“Can a politician be a good Chris
tian?” was once asked of the late Sen
ator Ingalls of Kansas, when he re
filled, “With God all things are possi
ble.”
Stoats Hunt In Packs.
In some years stoats appear to he
more numerous than in others, and
they are seen not in ones and twos,
but in dozens, hunting together in
small packs. Stoats will hunt together
from scent and in full cry like a pack
of hounds, one always keeping the line
and closely by the others.
This sight has been recorded by differ
ent observers who have also seen wea
sels hunting in the same way.—Fur
News.
Good
School at
Auburn
and I have several houses
and lots for sale. Water is
the best and Auburn is a
desirable place to live.
Also store house for sale,
and if you had rather
live in Carl 1 have homes
and lots for sale there.
Write to
June H. Wood
Carl, Ga.
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