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A SONG OF PATIENCE.
Only for a little while .
Sunny days consent to smile
All their charms must fade away
In the midsts of wintry gray.
Flowers must wither; leaves must
fall;
Hushed must be the robin’s call.
Summer’s biooms but to beguile
Only for a little while.
But the snows will melt at last,
Days of storms are quickly past;
Just the same as days sSo gay—
Sun and shadows shift and play.
Quaff the pleasures while you can;
Bear the sorrows like a man.
For the tear is, like the smile,
Only for a little while.
—Washington Star.
DAYS AND
DOLLARS
Telka, who was seventeen years old,
felt very important indeed, for a sur
prising thing had happened. It was
only five days since she had been
graduated from the high sehool, and
lere she was with a working knowl
ojue of real estate business already
at her finger-tips—lliterally, because
her business was principally con
corned with the typewriting-machine
in the office of Armstrong & Wolfe.
The knowledge, perhaps, did not ex
tend far beyond her finger-tips, be
cause most of the letters she wrote
at the dictation of her employers con
veyed absolutely no meaning to her
raind; but this did not trouble Tekla
A o -‘
Her copy was neal as well as ac
curate, and there was nothing about
the completed letters to indicate that
the typewriting voung person was as
innocent as the typewriter itself of
the difference between the east half
of lot fiftv-seven and the northwest
forty in Skandia township.
“Vou're woaderfully fortunate,” said
Geraldine Pease, who was four years
older than Tekla. “I've always wish
ed 1 could work for Armstrong &
Wolfe—it's such a good place. How
did you ever happen to get it?”
“Oh,” returned Tekla, overlooking
Geraldine's somewhat wuncomplimen
tary emphasis, “Mr. Wolfe and father
used to be friends. He knew I'd have
to do something to help mother out,
and so when Miss Dodd’s sick father
telegraphed for her to go East, Mr.
Wolfe came to me. I'm to have thirty
dollars a month.” :
Mr. Wolfe, who was almost sixty
but looked vounger, was a large man,
so well-proportioned in every way that
his great height did not impress one
until he stood looking down upon
some ordinary six-footer.” His shoul
ders were broad, his hands and feet
huge, his good-natured mouth was
wide. his mild eyes stood wide apart.
Kvery one loved and respected him,
and because of his kindly eyes, he
had few enemies. No unfortunate per
son ever appealed to him in vain,
vet in spite of his amiability, he was
seldom impoued upon.
Tekla was conscious of no desire
to impose on him; but she was young,
it was summer time, often there were
no letters to be answered, and she
found idleness irksome.
The baseball match between the
teams of her own town and of Iron
wood was the beginning of her fall
from grace. The office closed at four
on Saturday afternoons and at half
past five on other days, and work was
supposed to begin at half past eight
each morning. It seemed to the rest
less girl that two hours’ playtime on
Saturday afternoons ought not to
make much difference to the firm, and
she asked if she might be excused.
It is probable that she would not
have enjoyed the game so well if she
had suspected that Mr. Wolfe, whose
large, blunt fingers did not lend them
selves gracefully to typewriting, had
been compelled to answer at consider
able length and with much discomfort
two important letters that had arrived
in the 3 o'clock mail.
Mr. Armstrong, the other partner,
had not learned to use a typewriter,
and always had enough to do, besides,
in his own special department.
The ball game, however, was only
the opening wedge. Tekla was popu
lar, and her friends and classmates
were having a glorious time that
summer.
At first, indeed, the girl stood out
bravely, refusing all daytime amuse
ments; but after that first baseball
game Tekla found it so easy to ask
and to obtain leave of absence for
part of Monday morning, all of Tues
day afternoon, or every bit of Wed
nesday, that Mr. Armstrong, an iras
cible, wiry man with nervous dyspep
sia, feared Mr. Wolfe was in danger
of being compelled to do all the type
writing. -
One forenoon Mr. Armstrong ob
served 'lekla, who had arrived three
quarters of an hour late, looking at
her watch with more than her usual
irritating frequency. When she was
not occupied with this futile employ
ment, she was casting impatient
glances at a visitor who had, in her
opinion, already stayved far too long.
Mr. Armstrong knew what her impa
tience portended. The door had bare
lv closed behind the visitor before
Tekla had taken the intruder’s place
beside Mr. Wolfe's big desk.
“O Mr. Wolfe,” she said, in her
bright, pretty, pleading way, ‘“should
vou mind very much if I were to go
home a little earlier? It's most
eleven, you know. I'm going to a par
ty tonight, and I want to try on the
new gown mother's making for me.
It's just the prettiest dress——"
Mr. Wolfe glanced from the papers
in his big hand to the office clock.
S SDhia ledben. " he hegan.
“Couldn’t 1 do it the first thing
this afeernoon?” pleaded Tekla, sager
ly. “You see, mother can’t do a thing
more to that waist until I've tried it
on.”
“Well, if that's the case, I sup
pose—"
“Oh, thank you!” eried Tekla, hur
riedly darting away.
Mr. Armstrong, who had suffered in
silence for six weeks, rose and slam
med the deoor.
“That girl’s the limit!” he snapped.
“If I had my way, I'd fire her so guick
she wouldn’'t know what had happen
ed.”
“In that case,” said Mr. Wolfe, “she
probably wouldn't realize why she was
fired, and the experience wouldnt do
her any good.”
“l would do me good!"” declared Mr.
Armstrong. “She’s utterly impossi
ble.” :
“No,” said Mr. Wolfe, “there’'s good
stuff in that girl. It means some
thing in this business where figures
count for so much, to have a girl
who is absolutely accurate—"
“And absolutely ignorant!” sneered
Mr. Armstrong, whose love for the old
er partner made him quick to resent
anything that seemed like an imposi
tion.
“Well,” returned Mr. Wolfe, mildly,
“as long as typewriting is all' I ex
pect of her, I don't mind that. So far,
those quick little fingers of her’s
haven't made a mistake. Miss Dodd,
as you know, got us into hot water
about eighteen times last year by her
inability to stick to straight copy.
Yes, there's good stuff in that little
girl, but she certainly lacks a realiz
ing sense.”
“Or any other kind of sense! She
isn't giving yvou three solid days’ work
a week.”
“She’s giving me more,” said Wolfe,
smiling whimsically, and casting a
rueful glance at his outspread fingers,
as he sat down at Tekla's typewriter.
“If they weren't built so like sausages
I wouldn't mind, but it seems to me
that I hit everything within six inches
every time I aim for a key. Look at
that! Figure 2 for ‘A’ every time.
But bad as it is, it’s more legible than
my handwriting.”
“Why don’t ycu give the gir! a good
talking to, if she’s worth taking pains
with?”
“Well,” confessed Mr. Wolfe, insert
ing a fresh sheet, and with one heavy
forefinger laborously ticking off the
date, “to tell the truth, I have. I went
around there one night about three
weeks ago and talked to her like a
grandfather. You know yonu can’'t be
right down hard on a little light-heart
ed thing like that. Her mother
doesn’t seem much older than she
is, and they certainly do need the
money. I talked to them both. They
—they seemed pleased.” : :
“Humph!” exploded Mr. Armstrong,
indignantly. “I'll talk to her.”
“No, you won’t,”” said Mr. Wolfe,
resting his large, calm eyes for a long
moment on his partner’s perturbed
countenance. “Talk just rolls off that
girl like salad dressing from an iced
tomato. Some sort of a kindergar
ten method might work better. I'm
willing to take a little pains with her
because of her father. Mighty nice
chap was old Samuel Bliss. Now
don’t worry, Armstrong. She'll be
trying to work thirteen hours a day,
the way you do, before I'm done with
her. I haven't quite figured the way
out vet, but I think I see light.”
Nothing on paper had ever looked
quite so beautiful to Tekla as the
check she had received at the end of
her first month’s sadly neglected
work. The envelope, addressed to
Miss Tekla Bliss, and placed on Her
table, had greeted hem the morning
she was so disgracefully late from
oversleeping after Mildred Hull's
coming-out party. For three days aft
erward Tekla had experienced, at
breakfast-tinie, something surprising
ly like a sense of duty. It hurried her
to the office and kept her there until
closing time. Mgt the glamour of the:
check and the pmprecedented sense of
duty flickered ofit together by the aft.
ernoon of the fourth day, when Tekla
succumbed, at half-past two, to temp
tation in the form of a naphtha-launch
picnic.
Mr. Armstrong noticed that his
partner frequentiyv paused in his work
to lean back and regard Tekla with
puzzled, almest remorseful eyes.
Sometimes, while so engaged, he scirb
bled something in a little book that
he carried in his waistcoat pocket..
Toward the end of the month the puz--
zled expression departed, but the sor:-
row remained. Mr. Armstrong could:
see that although the kind-hearted
old man had made up his mind to deal.
with Tekla, he was far from happy
over the prospect. She herself had no;
misgivings. She continued to arrive
late, to go home early. and to absent
herself whenever she happened to feel
like it.
“You do have an easy time in that
office, don't you?’ said Geraldine
Pease, meeting Tekla one noon in holi
day attire. “I don’'t dare ask for a
day off once in six weeks.”
“Oh, I'm not afraid!” retorted Tekla,
airily. “Mr. Wolfe isn’'t the scolding
kind. He says I'm the neatest type
writer he’d had—when I'm there. Mr.
Armstrong looks like & thunder-cloud
all the time, but Mr. Wolfe lets me
go any time I ask.”
“But,” asked Geraldine, curiously,
“haven’t you amy conscience in the
matter?”’ '
“Not a scrap,” laughed Tekla.
“I should think,” said Geraldine,
“that vou'd like to feel sure you were
earning your salary.”
“As long as I'm getting it,” returned
Tekla, “I'm satisfied.” ;
Pay-day was approaching and Tekla
was glad. Just before that important
date Mr. Wolfe said, one morning,
“Never mind Miss Bliss's check, Arm
strong. I'll attend to it myself.”
It was the thirty-first of August, and
for the first morning in two weeks
Tekla was not late. After hanging
up her hat, she turned expectantly
toward her tahle; but no white en
velope greeted her. A moment later
Mr. Welfe rose from his chair and laid
a large, oddly lumpy envelope before
her. As Tekla picked it up, Mr. Wolfe
turned suddenly to his partner.
“Armstrong,”’ said he, “you remem
ber that appointment with Johnson
at the bank?”
Thus considerately left alone, Tekla
opened her large envelope. Inside
were twenty-seven smaller envelopes,
on the outside of each of which was
printed “$l.ll. Please count immedi
ately.” Besides this, each small en
velope bore a date, one for every day
in August, the Sundays exce_pted.
Tekla, wondering what this meant,
opened one of the envelopes, spread
the enclosed coin on her table, and
counted.
“Why,” exclaimed Tekla, “I must
have made a mistake! I'm eighteen
cents short.
But the second count brougiit mno
better result. Ninety-three cents was
all the packet contained. Laying it
aside for future consideration, Tekla
opened the next tiny envelope. Some
thing was wrong with that that, too
It contained only seventy-eight cents.
Three packets contained the full
amount, one dollar and eleven cents.
These, however, were offset by two
others, holding respectively nineteen
and fourteen cents, while a third en
closed absolutely nothing but a large
Canadian penny. Tekla gasped, and
looked at the date. It was August
tenth.
“Now what,” mused Tekla, begin
ning to see light, “was I doing on—
Oh, yes, that was Elizabetth Button's:
birthday. I telephoned Mr. Wolfe that'
I wouldn't be down because I was in
vited to help Elizabeth celebrate.”
Tekla, with a flush creeping into
her eheeks, counted her money. It
amounted to fifteem dollars and sev
enty-five cents. A slip of paper at
tached to the newest of the dollar
bills caught her attention. She read
the words: ‘“An honest day deserves
an henest doflar.”
“Ard honest day—an honest day”
repeated Tekla, regarding with misty
eves the heap eof silver and copper
coin. “Does he mean that the other
dayvs weren't honest?”
An: hour. later, when Mr. Wolfe and
Mr.. Armstrong returned, Tekla’s
cheeks were red, her eyes were reso
lute, the machime was giving forth
short, sharp, metallic elicks, and all
round the industrious girl were neat
ly typewrittem pages, for Tekla was
doing an:honest day’s work.
She did nmet have a relapse to her:
old, easy-going habiis. Nothing was.
said, But when pay-day came again;.
Tekla received two checks, Mr. Arm--
strong’'s: far thirty dollars and Mr.
Wolfe's: for fourteen dollars and twen--
ty-five eents. Choosing a moment
when Mr. Armstrong was absent, Tek
la laid the secend@ check on Mr.
Wolfe's desk.
“I didn't earn it,” said she, briefly.
“Not last month, perhaps,” said Mr.
Wolfe, pushing the slip toward: Tekla
and smiling, “but you’'ve more than
made up for it since. Mr. Armstrong:
says you're worth two Miss Dodds..
That’s a good deal from Mr. Arm
strong, you know.”
“Oh, I'm glad!” breathed Tekla, fer
vently. *“That’s worth all the picnics
P've missed.”—Youth's Cempanion.
“The School for Mothers.”
“The School for Mothers,” origimat
ed by Mme. Moll-Weiss in Bordeaux,
is being much discussed. There is
a question of starting similar ednea
tional establishmeats in Paris and
other large centres in France en the
same system, ané¢ thinking peaple are
applauding the measures taken to fur
ther the interests of humanity.
Hitherto young girls were brought
up to ignore the very things they
should be taught. They had no notion
of the elementary principles of hy
giene, of the dressing of infants, of
the management of household ex
penses, the price of food, ete. All this
will be taught them, and® prepares
them for the position of wives and
mothers.
By Lord Kitchener's orders soldiers
whe fall victims to phthists are now
sent home from India.