Middletown transcript., 1893-07-29
7 DUDE =
BY BESSIE BAILEY COOK.

Jen'S f0reneaQ was GWiolOu into
thoughtful little puc ker. dude"
noticed it, and smiled at her in Dude'e
own winsome way. TIE girls face
cleared instantly, and brightness
flashsd over it, which eliminated in
the eiggle Dude SO often made fun of.
Dude was a ''perfect sight," there
he stood on the topmost round OF the
shaky ladder, balancing a rusty stove
pipe on his shapely head. There was
smoke to the right of him!
Smoke to the lett of h1ml
and SCOT all over him; but Dnde's good
temper was unfailing, and he danced a
careful jig on the ladder, pronouncing
the situation great larks.
Meanwhile. jim was rushing about,
trying to ft joints of pipe which were
never intended to fit, while several of
the other men looked helplessly or
sullenly on, as their dispositions
chanced to decide. It had been bad
day for the forceof the Daily Screamer,
with chill and dreary November
weather without, and steam-heating
apparatus which had gone ON strike
within.
Finally the men announced that a
stove must be set up or they would
quit work. Dude at once sketched a
fine large burner on blank proof sheet,
and s.set it up'' near the principal
s.kicker::'' but the trouble had gone too
far for fun. and he and jim were in
structed to make the old stove ready
for use. They got it up, but the pipe
toppled, and Dude, rushing to the
rescue. found himself in the position
which had attracted Jen's notice. 1t
was mot the tiresome editorial fast
clicking its way into type beneath her
nimble fingers which had occasioned
the puzzled frown. 1t was Dude.
What was bis name, anyway? Who
was he. and what chance had thrown
him into the whirlpool of rough men
and simpering girls which made up the
working force of the Screamer. He
was not q printer. 1t was hard to
specify ex actly what his duties were.
he worked on the books. He wrote
funny items, or "did local" when the
s.local,' was on spree. If Mrs. Rich
mond wanted help about the house,
she always sent for Dude. Mrs. Rich
mond was the EDITORS wife. Dude
could feed the press, and wasn't above
taking proof to help out blue-eyed
Irish Jimmie, ''the galley slave"
When the engineer, Oscar Wild Ross
(called "Sunfower" or the "Long
LOST according to Dudes humor) had
fever, Dude ran the engine daytimes
and took care of his sick superior at
night. It was Dude who rushed into
the flames, stamped the burning paper
with his feet, and blew out the blazing
lamp which had been overturned by a
drunken pressman. The other men
ran for water or fed with fear; but
Dude, as usual, was in the right place
at the right time. Didn't he know
lust what to do the day Jen faintedp
Didu't he care for her. as gently as a
woman, while the panic-stricken girls
rushed hither and thither in aimless
confusion.
Much of this passed through Jen's
mind as Dude stood on the ladder,
while he in his turn pondered:
ssPoor little Jenl White as the
snow-Aakes outside. Wonder If she
will faint again, before we get this old
stove fxedP Wish there was someone
who could take her away from this
place. Works too hard, and the COM
pany isn't fit for such nice little
thing. Made me think of mother the
frst day she came. Poor motherl And
sister Elsie-she must be about as old
as Jen. Seven years wasted by big
fool. If this fire burns, Ill write to
mother tonight. She shall, at least,
know that am alive and well"
The ingenious Jimmie coaxed the
stovepipe together. It was properly
adjusted, and the fire burned cheerily,
soon tempering the frigid air in the
Screamer composing room. Peace
reigned for the instant in the bosom Of
Tom. the chronic kicker, who made
up the forms only about an hour late
taking time nevertheless to steal fur
tive looks at Jen, whose notice he con
stantly sought. She had no thought
or care for him. Her editorial was
finished. and by the light Of dingJ
lamp she 'threw in,n dreaming mean
while of other and happier days, ever
Dude for the time forgotten.
1t was Halloween. In her old home
preparations for the annual merry
making must already be under way
She could smell the apples, hear thu
chestnuts pop. 1t is time for the trla
of the lookingglass.
Crashl The presses stop. The day
work is done. Jen is once more tn
orphan, toiling for bread, with only
.spicked up'' supper and the cherries
room of a clearinghouse for he
Halloween. Scarlet spots burn In tn
pale cheeks, and the cruel cough sound
again and again as the slight figure
speeds along the darksome streets
unoonsciops that Dude self-canstitute'
and unknown protector, is following
close enough to defend her shou d occa
sion arise. The door closes behind her
Dude. his fine mouth firmly closed
retraces his steps, and writes the lette
to his mother.
Days come and go, until a week pa
passed, Jen is late that morning, AM
the Office is "all torn up" as Nan ex
pressed it, when she at length arrives
Half a dozen endeavor to tell her tn