The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1896-01-02
CHAPTER III,

SOulC GucdGIlCtll UlllS.
There was 2 shabby, inferior air
about the shop that gave him quite a
shock and rather dampened his ardor;
he wondered he had never been struck
by the meanness of its appearance
when he had been so familiar with it
years ago.
He entered with a strange feeling of
reluctance. Within, the shop was
closed and dark, and filed with unen-
couraging odors of miscellaneous cook
ing. It was long and narrow, with
gloomy, high-backed boxes on either
side, for the accommodation of custom
ers, and, ut the end, low counter be-
hind which was private space where
the frying and boiling and washing-up
was done; piles of plates and dishes,
cups and saucers, stood on long dres-
ser, and similar articles adorned the
wooden rack above it, while from an
end of the recess which was out of
sight, a thick steam foated dreamily
and hung in an attenuated cloud ak
along the ceiling of the shop.
Hesitating, and overcome by an un-
accountable nervousness, Mr.. Ben Hill
yer slipped aside into one of the boxes,
instead of going straight to the coun-
ter, as he had at first intended, and
when the frowzy waitress came to at
tend upon him he ordered a cup of tea.
From where he sat he could keep
watch on part of the space behind the
counter; there was an ancient female.
washing crockery in a large tub, and
the frowzy waitress drawing his tea
from an urn; from the invisible depths,
whence the steam foated, arose q high
pitched feminine voice, monotonously
scolding somebody in connection with
a disaster to some baking operations.
All the while he was slipping his tea
that scolding continued, the rancorous,
intolerant tones grating on his nerves
like the snarling of hand saw. He
was. yearning for glimpse of that
face whose portrait had been his con-
slant companion, and comforter in the
tedious years of his absence. He had
looked forward to this day with unut-:
terable longings; in his sleeping and
waking dreams he had lived through
this hour, through this meeting that
was now SO near, more often than he
could have said, and if, so fur, the re-
a]ity was not comparable with those
dreams surely the actual seeing her,
touching her hand, hearing her speak,
must surpass all imaginary rapture. -
His thoughts were broken in upon
by the frowzy waitress saying to man
i'll the adjoining box:
"Oh, she's in one of her usual tan
trums. It's sickenin'. She's been at it
like this all day, very near"
"Kate!"
1t was the complaining voice raised
to higher pitch; and, answering the
call, the waitffess scuttled off, vanished
round the counter, and could be heard,
out Of sight involved in a dispute.
She reappeared, later, subdued and
sullen, and presently the owner of the
scolding voice became visible at the
counter. and proceeded to make fresh
tea IN the urn.
At the first sight of her face Mr.. Ben
Hillyer started, a peculiar choking SEN
sation rose in his throat, and he shrank
back as if he feared she might observe
him. She was stout, full-faced wom-
an, with an anxious, disconnected ex-
preston; q large, coarse apron con-
cealed most Of her faded print dress.
and her sleeves were rolled up above the
elbows of her red, rough arms. To
stranger, the resemblance betwee:: this
more than buxom female and the photo
graph in Mr.. Hillyer's pocketwouid have
been imperceptible, but to- Mr.. Ben
Hiliyer himself it was at once apparent.
He could even trace something vaguely
familiar, now, in the altered voice; yet
he made desperate effort to believe
that he was mistaken, that this robust,
practical termagant and the dainty,
tender-hearted, sympathetic girl he had
loved could not possibly be one and the
same person.
The dear ideal he had enshrined in
his most sacred thoughts during all
these years was not to be removed and
replaced by such q reality as this. He
knew ten years must have changedher,
but he had come expecting neverthe-
less, to find grace and sweetness, and
something >at2least Of the beauty that
had first enchanted him; he found in
stes'l- ,,.-,...., a. |
The disillusion stunned and bewil-
dered him. He was in no mood just then
to remember how constant she had
been; how nobly she had faced the sor-
did business, of life when she and her
sisters had been left alone in the world,
or how impossible it was for the most
delicate-natured to engage in such stern
combat without becoming hardened
and coarsened, and perhaps embittered.
Nothing of such changes had revealed
itself in her letters, and he felt it the