Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1898-09-01

ClSUy 0ulCOr, WuUS6 SEllle was DIS Wel1
oiled as his russell boots; the baby faced
reporter, who betted on everything and
matched" ON the smallest provocation; ;
the fretful critic with the perpetual cold
in the head, who banged the door as if
to insinuate his exit was final, and who
always returned in rush for some
thing forgotten; the artist lounging
with an exalted look to his feet, who
drew inspiration from Egyptian ciga-
rettes; Pete, the office boy, with terrible
worldly knowledge in his pale eyes and
the savoir faire of veteran clubman
in his manner, who grew confidential
with her and tried to interest her in the
intricacies of baseball, and David Tenn
pie, the editor in chief, who, unlike
many Of his compeers, worked hard,
bringing with him an assurance of well
bred ease and a capability for exertion
and endurance.
Her surroundings were so strange
that Anne often wondered if it were in.
deed she who was there, the lonely girl
who in the we'll stocked library of a
silent country house had written most
of the specials" which had commanded
attention.
While the chatter of the presses and
the unaocustomed tread Of life were in
her ears she would close her eyes and
summon a vision of different scene
and time: A hollow at the foot of a hill
where great pool lay and willow
branches like green lengths of dishevel-
ed hair trailed in the water; girl, her
self, the Anne Garrick vino was dead
never to rise again, lying at full length
under the trees, her cheek upon an open
book, the fragrance Of lost land around
her. the whir Of unseen wings, the
firefies in the black gloom under the
cedars, or flashing like uneasy ely )
from tho confusion of ripe grass, the
sound Of water pushing it's way through
twisted weeds with coquettish whim-
per like silk rubbed on silk
Some snatch CT street song, the ex-
citing news of the last murder or the
clangor of Trinity's bell would brighten
these imaginings. and despite her pagan
love Of nature she would return to
work, happy that the old life Of soil
tude and revnrie was over.
David talked to her very little and
never abou anything save work She
watched him and found him curiously
interesting Other men were more or
less of a familiar type, but David Tenn
pie was individual. A nascent force
marked his lightest action. To be near
him was like coming within the radius
of a powerful electric current.
She had always liked clean shaved
men. They seemed degree farther
from the idea of the ancestral monkey
than their bewhiskered brothers David
was clean shaved, spare Of flesh, strong
ly built. There was unity in his simple
name, stern face. searching gray eyes
and the practical surroundings in which
he worked. Back of his desk the bound
volumes Of The Citizen for generation
were somberly heaped Electric wires
and buildings of granite were visible
beyond the window near which he sat
The man and his mission were melodic.
Anne was slowly drawing on her
gloves one evening when the reporter
with the SCARED face laid down his
cigar and asked a question of nobody in
particular
"Any of you fellows know where
Donald Sefain has hidden himself this
timer"
The name attracted her, and she
found herself waiting for the reply.
so Lord, it's too warm to think of
Sefain's vagariesl He's probably trying
tenement house life again with some Of
his slum friends while penny remains.
When he's broke, he'll come back and
work for another spurt," the society
editor replied with fine uncopcern.
Fool Flinging himself away! He
won't last long.
"D'you know what I'd do if l were
in Temples place and had such pre-
cious bundle of shiftlessness, unconcern
and surliness for SO called brother
"H'ml There isn't much doubt about
what you'd do"
"Kick him out :" And the society ed
Nor fingered his imperial tenderly.
81 think he hates Temple more every
TO BE Continued