The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1886-11-05

always un0omOn5Crauv0, sometimes 60
we're toward her. but she knew that she
was all that kept his heart beating in hie
bosom.
She and her father talked but little n
they made their way to the avenue, for
it was q raw, clustering November day,
and the wind blew the dust hither and
thithcr in clouds, seeming to take q
mischievous delight in whirling . hand
full against . girls face. When they
reached the park they got into . belt
line car. which, in its rounds on the
edge of the town, would carry them to
that Questionable quarter of New York
that lies near the East river. They had
boarded for several years with the
Widow Terry, whose house was one of
score called HarlCe row. in street
not far from Beekman place. 1t is a
quiet spot, given over to modest dwell
ings. and in the river just beyond lies
Blackwell's island, with its great gray
buildings. The avenue about here is
lined with vulgar little shops, and the
owners, not a few of whom are Ger
mans, lounge in the doorways, lightly
clad in only shirt and trousers when the
weather is warm, while their wives sit
by the opened windows above, and are
on the alert to speak harsh words to tine
children playing on the sidewalk. A
groggery, with group of idlers about it,
or bntcher-shop with carcasses of calves
and pigs suspended in the windows to
tempt a feeble appetite, is on every cor
ner. u and down jingle the eternal
hOrse-cars, and great drays rumble over
the stone pavement from daybreak to
dark. The very policemen have caught
something of the bedraggled look of the
neighborhood, and seem far-away cous-
ms TO the neat, white-gloved wearers of
the uniform who pilot ladies through
the throng of carriages below Madison
square. And Madison square is nearly
as foreign to the people of the First av-
enue as Mayfall or the Faubourg st.
German.
In Harlce row, just around the corner,
noise and squalor give way to peace and
decercy. and the people who dwell in
the neat brick houses hold their
heads rather high when they cross
the avenue. Mrs. Terry. with whom
the Valreys boarded, was widow, who.
if she had not seen better days, had at
least never seen any worse ones, and
pr;ded herself somewhat on her gentil-
ity. which to the outward eve consisted
chiefly in going to church dressed in
black silk. Her house was too small to
accommodate many boarders, and she
was very particular about those whom
she fed and lodged. She could go to
bed soothed by a sense of perfect secur-
ity and unimpeachab!e decorum, sure
that no FOSTERING clerk would stumble
up her narrow staircase after midnight.
The Valreys occupied three tiny rooms
on the third floor, and on the second
were the Kanes, sedate elderly floor
walker and his bed-ridden wife. There
was room for one more boarder, and
Mr.. Kane had spoken about a young
man of his acquaintance who would be
glad to become member of the family;
but Mrs Terry did not like the idea of a
young man, although she finally con-
sentcd to receive this one on trial for a
fortnight.
mind you," she said, '.if l smell
whisky about him, out he goes. won't
have any cigarette-smOking beer-drink-
ing boys In my mouse.
1t may be added Just here that the
late Mr.. Terry had not been sober for
month before death cut him down in the
bloom of manhood.
In the same car with the Valreys IS a
young man whose dress indicates he has
no mother, nor wife, nor sister to per-
form those little services of fastening a
button hanging by the eyelids, or mend
ing shabby coat.
When the car stopped to let her and
her father alight, the Young man alight-
I'd too. and followed them up the street
% narloe row, even to the widow Terry's
loor. There M. Valrey turned to look
sharply at him. and taking off his hat,
the young man said, his face reddening
again:
This is Mrs. Terry's house, unless 1
have made mistake in the number L
am coming here to board. You may have
heard Mr.. Kane speak of me-Langmuir
s my name, Hugh Langmuir."
His eyes met Pauline's with a wistful
and she smiled little. So
she and he came face to face for the first
lime, and in the minute that they stood
On the doorstep their hearts went out
o each other in sympathy. They were
both poor, both young. and to both the |
future held forth vague
promises.
And this is the prologue of "a Step
Aside" Hugh Langmuir says at the |
Terry dinner table after honestly in
5ratiating himself with his fellow
oOardcrs, that the first week he was in !
New York he was MORALLY afraid that |
somebody might suspect how green
md country" he was. But in fact he
s good sort of lad, ''t!,ough the son
Of clergyman" and bright and chatty,
and he soon wins favor even with Mrs.
Terry, and does not go up to his room
directly after dinner as he had been
wont to do; and he fingered awhile in
he parlor where Mrs. Terry and the
Valreys spent the evenings. 1t was a
lidcous little room, with a green and
'ed carpet and staring white walls.
The pictures were mostly photographs
Of the Terry family. enclosed in shiny
black frames. There was some artistic
cross with a wreath of
lowers, standing on a bracket in the
corner, and beneath it little marble
;opped table held ghastly water lilies,
which were protected from the dust by
. glass shade. What saved the room
from being nightmare was the large
able in the middle, covered with a
cheerful crimson cloth. The green rep
had well worn. comforta-
Die look, too; and when Mrs. Terry and
pauline sat sewing by the drop light.
md Papa Valrey, who always turned
lis back to them so that the light came
'ver his left shoulder. and always ex-
'iained and apologized, sat near with a
newspaper, the little group looked
'leasant and homelike to the lonesome
10Y.
In this shabby boarding house Pauline