The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1888-02-22
gloves, my umbrella and my new Sopho-

times. This time which was by no
means of the best, I sprang straight out
at right angles to the line of the train,
and as a natural consequence, was
thrown violently on to my hands and
knees, tearing my neither garments at
the knee and barking the knee itself
with more liberality than discretion.
However, l reflected, as gathered my
self and my hat together, they could
not have seen me fall, so all was right.
With the arrival of the next train the
first part of my adventure came to a well
come end 1t left a great impression on
me, however. was pursued by con-
slant dread of falling in with "Maggie"
again. To avoid this availed myself of
a route by bus to and from my office,
which entailed waste of time and cold
in the head. For Maggie might be in
but scarcely on bus, and the weather
was cold and capricious.
Miss Jackson is almost the only lady l
know upon whom I voluntarily make
calls. She is q very old friend of mine;
she is, in fact, one of the few women In
whose company do not feel shy. Invent
to see her about fortnight after the
episode of the hat. The servant showed
me in without announcing my name.
The room was lighted only by the tire,
and as l walked in heard voice that
seemed somewhat familiar finish narra-
ton with these words: T-uckily he got
out at the next station, and live N hope
that l shall never see him again"
''Let me introduce Mr.. Garden to you,
Miss Henderson," said my hostess, who
had risen to receive me. bowed in the
darkness, not without grave fears as to
the identity of Miss Henderson with the
Maggie OF my adventure. However that
may be, she uttered some usual common
phrase to which I replied: "Oh, yes!"
jerkily, not being able to think of any
thing more original on the spur OF the
moment.
"Well," said Miss Henderson, after an
interval in which 1 raked viclously
round my mind for remark in vain, 81
think | must be going. Where do you
think l put my hat before it got dark,
Miss Jackson2 I've made disg, acefully
long call; it was quite light when [
came"
Miss Jackson lit candle, while l
hunted desperately about for the miss
ing hat, not daring to look up at Miss
Henderson. At last I found it close be-
side me on a low chair, with furry con-
trivance which, have since learned, is
called boa. 1t was so close to me, in
deed, that to this day regard it as a
special mercy that that l had not sat
upon it. picked up the hat and the
boa, and as 1 stepped over with them 1
said, without looking up, 'this is your
hat, believe" Then I looked up, as
was inevitable. Of course, as you have
guessed. Miss Henderson was the Maggie
of the railway carriage. l had just time
to see her flush crimson before | lowered
my eyes. What happened before she
left the room I cannot say, as I was
practically unconscious.
Well, after this I got desperate. 1t
was of no use, it seemed, to fly from this
hat and its wearer. I abandoned my
bus route and patronized the Under
ground again, haunted by the dread OF
seeing Maggie, but sure that no amount
of stratagem could long keep me from
doing so. In the evening when had
just got home used even to imagine
scenes in which l had crushed and
her by the naughty politeness
of my manner at chance meeting. I
can certainly confess that the recollec-
ton of her face was constantly very
VIVID, and that l sometimes ''visual.
izedn it without any hat or frame of
stuffed partition.
One fine morning about 9:30 I was on
my way up to the office in a smoking car
riage. 1t was quite full of business men,
each with his paper and pipe. Twas en-
joying cigarette in that state of semi
consciousness that the Underground
favors when. just before the train left l
knew not what station, Maggie opened
the door. "rhis is smoking carriage" "
remarked the man next the door, who
with the odious selfshness of his sex re-
garded the entrance of lady as the
violation of sanctuary. 81 am sorry"
Maggie answered, ''but there is no time
to find another l will stand, and change
at the next station" I had known that
it was Maggie before I looked up when
I heard her voice at the door. The pro-
pinauity of no other being would have
accoun; ed for the sudden aura that passed
over me. These nine dreadful, clean
shaved and outwardly respectable city
men complacently sat and allowed Mag
gle to stand in the reeking atmosphere
that they had contaminated with their
smoke. l am not a man who loves to
push himself forward on such occasions
as this, but | could not take share in
such conduct, and after a seconds blush
ing 1 extricated myself from my neigh
bors and offered my seat by gesture of
the hand. 1t was not 80 to be; l was
bound to speak, as Maggie was looking
at the window by the bar Of which she
was holding. pray take my seat" l
said, in voice as gruff and deep as
could make it. "Thank you, Mr.. Car
den, Maggie replied, after startled re-
cognition. "It is shame to deprive you
of it in smoking carriage" She bit her
lip and Dlushed, but took the vacant
place.
Isuppose I stood there for some three
minutes in state Of agony, conscious of
having rebuked the city men by my act
and of having once more obtruded, as it
were, my existence upon Maggie. At
the next station got out; so did she.
"Mr. Garden, I heard her say close be-
hind me. What new torture was booked
for, 1 wondered; but escape there was
none 80 turned and faced the foe, rails
ing my hat and no doubt looking much
surprised. "Mr. Garden" she said, II
wish to beg your pardon, if you please"
"Beg my pardon, Miss Mag-Miss