Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1899-02-08

thing to do when one considered the
inconvenience of crossing the ferry,
riding in trainfu of commuters,
changing to q trolley car and finally
goping through dark park. But,
as he explained, the heart, like the
wind, goes pretty much where it wills,
and his had taken up its abode in the
old Walton house some II miles from
. the city, and after all it was not so
bad.
Whitridge was such an indolent man
that it seemed to his friends rather
strange that he should have chosen to
worship at q shrine that could be
reached onl..,: by a y.eritable pilgrimage.
His laziness was natural and sensible,
for his grandfather had dried up in an
old tea warehouse on Front street and
left him a>million. Before that he had
pottered little in law and had even
advanced so far as to defend a.cele-
brated burglar known as One-eyed
Grogan, who was acquitted because OF
the shrewdness of his counsel's cross
plea. Then Whitridge retired from
the bar and took to doing nothing. He
did it we'll.
Such career met the severe disap-
preSal of Dorothea Walton, who, like
most women of the suburbs, was cIl-
tured and had ideas. Never having
done any work herself except to study
the labor question from its philosophic
side, she believed that every man
should be busy eight hours of the
twenty-hour.
So when at length Whitridge asked
her to marry him she said abruptly:
'.But you don't work. You are man
without an aim in life. ;"
"My grandfather worked and had
aims for me-, )" Whitridge replied.
every man should do something III
this world, even if it is only driving an
express wagon, said the girl, warmly.
you are man without ambition-a
man who might as well not be living
at all. lou --- --- ~
Is seensito me yorl are iusksa little
y. "
8 OF course you knowSI like you, =
Dorothea went on more kindly. ssBat
it seems so much nobler for man 70
say to woman: L shall slave all day
in the Office for you, than I've got q
million and am willing to share it with
you. Now, doesn't it?"
.'<I think the average woman would
say, I'LL share the million; don't bother
about the Office, was the grim re-
ply.
Dorothea flushed
"You consider me an average
woman, then?"
''No, no!' cried Whitridge. "And if
You will l shall slave for you. I'll go
down town and plod along on the law,
and we can live on what 1 make"
"Now You talk foolishly," said she,
ST do not demand work for works
sake, but it seems to me that for a
man to be without an occupation in
these times shows lack of brains.
''But it takes great deal of brains
to do nothing and to do itrespectably.
And after all, I don't think you can
say that I am very bad"
''No. And that's where more trouble
comes. You are not even reformable.
A woman might devote herself to the
work of reforming man, but you Of
fer nothing but mere money"
s'.And love-" Whitridge blurted ont,
and he was overcome with confusion.
He blushcd and began to tear nervous
ly at the lapels of his coat. But his
embarrassment served to emphasize
his honesty and sincerity.
The girl recognized this and said
kindly: 81 know I am foolish, Sam,
but I have queer ideas, perhaps. So
don't talk of it any more"
"Thcn good night" said he, rising
abruptly from his chair and holding
out his hand.
"Gool night" said she. 81 trust
you will be able to find your way to
the street without trouble. 1t is very
dark.
'I have travelled the path often
enough TO know it" he said with q
foycel laugh. 81 guess J. shall not
have much reason to follow it often
after this.
Whitridge turned and walked from
the room. Dorothea Walton stood as
he had left her. gazing abstractedly
into the fire. She heard the door close
with bang a few minutes later, and by
sudden impulse she ran up to her
room, turned out the light and peered
out into the darkness. If she expected
to get glimpse of Whitridge as he
disappeared into the blackness or to
hear the gravel crunching beneath his
feet, she was disappointed. She closed
the window with crash.
Dorothea Walton's disappointment
had its origin in door knob; one of
those modern contrivances that are
such baue to the man who calls.
When Whitridge reached the hall he
put on hi; overcoat and hat, opened
the first door and closed it behind
him. This left him standing in the
vestibule. He seized the knob of the
outer door, turned 1t and pulled, but
to no avail. Then he turned the knob
the other way and pulled, but the door
did not bulge. He turned and pushed
and pushed and turned, but his ef-
forts were not rewarded.
Now, in the 25 years of his life he
had learned that locks are very human;
tbat tbev resent harsh treatment and
are susceptible to kindness and per-
suasion, 50 he gave this particular
one q good long breathing spell, ap-
r<oached it again as though he were
afraid of disturbing it and turned it so
gently that had it been sleeping it
would hardly have been awakened.
lie went just SO far and stopped. He
gave it violent jerk and q forceful
ialn-all to no avail. Again he rested