Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1878-01-18

- w nat! NO money! WneTe IN mum
der is my pocket-bookP" he almost said
aloud.
His pocket-book was gone, probably
picked when he was frantically hailing
those six cars. Yes, his pocket-book
was gone. But he must have some
loose scrip about him, certainly and
with all the blood in his veins rushing
up into his face Jim Mallory confined
his search-a fruitless search, for not a
penny, even, could he find.
Here was pretty fix for man to be
in. A stranger, too; and just then Jim
caught sight of himself in alittle pock-
et-mirror he had turned out with other
effects in his searching, and discovered
what forlorn-looking object he was,
and, consequently, how much more diff
licult and disagreeable was his position!
What upon earth was he going TO doP
What upon earth was he going to sayP
He had quick brain, usually fertile in
expcdients, but the ignominious facts
of the present case were too much for
him. He had heretofore declared, with
rather a grand manner, that u man
should rule circumstances; and here
were the most contemplate circum-
stances ruling him with rod of iron.
"If it wasn't for those five girls, nowr'
he thought. But he might as well have
said: "If it wasn't for that CONDUCTOR
and great deal better, for there he
was, slowly but steadily making his
way toward the lower end of the car,
with wary eye for all whom he caught
mapping or negligent. And there were
those five girls with their tickets flut-
tering in prompt readiness! All at
once at this juncture he became con-
scious of q pair of the softest, tenderest
eyes he had ever seen fixed upon him
with look of shy commseration. 1t
was one of those five girls. 1t was the
brunette, who curled her hair over a
slate-pencil, and dramatized her deShd-
bile. So she had been watching him.
She had seen his empty pockets, and
was moved to pity thereby, spite of his
forlorn and seedy appearance. He felt
the blood go tingling up into his face
again, but before he had time to know
whether he was glad or sorry there was
pull at the bell, the car stopped and
two or three people were getting in.
And in the crowd and the confusion up
started the little brunette, and, nodding
over her shoulder at her companions,
made hurried rush for the door Jim
Mallory, sitting there, saw once more
those plying brown eyes, and then. as
her garments brushed past him, he felt
little ungloved hand thrusting some
thing into his hand. His fingers closed
over this something mechanically
For a moment he could see nothing in
the hurry and confusion, but there was
near, faint scent of early violets,
which suddenly vanished with soft
rustic of silk. He looked up then, and
she was gone. He looked down.--and
there in his palm was" Why, bless
my soul, car-ticketr' as Jim himself
eXclaims whenever he tells the story.
And to follow Jim's words ut this point,
which well tell the story better than
anybody else's words: There had that
little angel, under the disguise of
crimped hair and lot of other non
sense, taken note of my misfortunes,
made her little plan of relief, which she
carried out, like the strategist she was,
at the very climax of my desperation,
and when the stir and confusion about
us would cover every movement. Wasn't t
it splendid, though? How many girls do
you suppose would have done that for
such Il muff as looked to be that day?
For tell you, Tom''-this was to Tom
Saxon" that did look something aw-
full. What with those confounded cot
ton-samples from your Office sticking
to me, and the dust, and the cold in my
head, and smash in my hat, l was
about as seedy a specimen as you ever
saw" And Tom thought he might have
been.
But out of one dilemma Jim Mallory
had stepped fairly into another. As
that " little angel in crimped hair and
a lot of other nonsense" stepped out of
the car, after the performance of her
impulsive action-which was really a
very pretty actiOn-something entered
Jim's heart which he had no will nor
wish to Danish; but, as | say, it was out
of one dilemma into another" out of
the frying-pan into the fire. Tom
Saxon would laugh, for all the clew he
had was a name that hundreds of girls
in Boston owned And the way he got
this was at the moment of her vanish
ing, when the astonished four cried out
in chorus:
Whats Molly getting off here for?"
In vain Tom had brought him face
to face with some half dozen Mollys
of his own acquaintance. From each
Jim Mallory had turned with sigh of
disappointment. Not one of them be-
longed to his angel in crimped hair.