The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1899-08-25
MY FRIEND
DICK DANA

hAppy disposition which holds the
power to assist one to forget, for the
while at least, that there is anything
but sunshine anywhere. Moreover
knowing him intimately and probaoly
understanding him better than any
one am free to say that / nave YET
to discover his equal in unseihshness.
He was one of those unlortunates
whom everyone likes and no one fears
and, as such, his life was largely spent
In doing favors for people who ac-
cepted them as matter OF course.
BY reason of his ability to pleas
to do and say the right thing at the
right time. Dick was considerable oi
factor in the rather limited circle oi
fashionable society Of tas town n
which he was reared. and where he
had wasted, through unambitIous
drifting" the carry years following
his college career. lie was Known
to all as Dick" and was never taken
seriously by anyone. Anything ne
said was expected to have laugh IN
it and passed for joke whether 1t was
so intended or not. That ne had
ability and talent was conceded, but
lack of power to assert himself, spok-
en- Of by some as downright laziness,
and by others more charitably dispos-
ed. as Indifference discouraged even
those who most cuurted his society.
have just said that no one took
him seriously, and yet, that is net ex-
actly true. He was taken very seriously
indeed by girl who saw, or Thought
she saw. in his careless manner and
laughing face. undevelnped POSSIBLE
ties for usefulness in an enlarged
sphere-a career even-and when
Dick himself made this startling dis
covery the sensation impressed him in
a manner that was new and novel. He
told me afterwards,-l, VINO was his
closest friend and was to have been
his best man,-that he did not realize
exactly what had come over him anti
upon a certain night believe it
was after the last Assembly ball,
when they were standing together IT
the foot of the great staircase. and
Grace appeared so particularly hand
some.-his manner grew serious for
once. and he scarcely knew what he
was saying But 1t Is certain that he
did not speak in vain, and 1t is prob
ably equally certain that there WAS a
tableau just at that time, with soft
lighting effect reflected from d dimly
burning Moorish lamp, but Of this
feature he did not tell me. 1t is
merely a draft on my Imagination.
Grace Dixon's father was spoken OF
by the business world as a successful
man. BY sheer hard work including
the manipulation of an occasional
corner" he had built a magnificent
fortune and had surrounded MS fam
lily with every luxury. He Judged ev-
cry man by his ability to q Ike and
keep good, Geld cash. How much
Is he worth?" was usually his first
and generally his last question. He
bad absolutely no patience with the
young men of the period who spen'
their time riding to hounds or playing
golf. and he had even threatened To
CIT off Toms allowance because that
worthy had dared to play centre rush
On his college team.
smile now when | think of the
scene which must have followed the
request of my friend Dick,--a request
plainly and straightforwardly put to
the President of the Lakeside Ma
tiGnal Bank for the hand of his only
daughter. | had always known tina.
]
thought him equal to this. He went
mo the library that night knowing
that the man he was 10 interview was
prejudiced against him In particular
and in general against his class of
men. Moreover he must have known
that of all his associates he was prob
Us the most hopeessly ineligible for
various reasons, but he did not hest
tate. OF course there was a terrible
storm. Dick told me afterwards that
he had remembered often to have seen
the same thing on the stage in melo-
drama. and the recollection that II al
ways came out alright in the end was
Jhe only thing that served to brace
him up, but it was a long seige. and
came to very unsatisfactory ending
when the English servant, at his mas
.ei bidding handed in from the hall
IN over 'oat, a cane and a derby hat,
and Dick recognized his property.
1t was three DAYS afterwards that
Grace departed for another year at
school in the city and Dick appeared
as usual in his regular haunts, with
the same hearty laugh and happy man
ner. Apparently there was nothing
N the world TO worry him. but knew
that back of that careessness there
was a great deal of hard thinking 60
ing on mingled with the first twinge
OF real sorrow he had ever known.
With the departure of his daughter.
Arthur Dixon considered the matter
settled. y years separation, he fig
Ted, would work wonders. He had
forbidden Grace to carry on any sort
OF correspondence whatever and the
rush of business soon relieved his
memory in measure, of the affair. AS
is usually the case the separation was
ABOUT The poorest NAN that could have
been suggested. OF course the faith.
er didn't know il, fathers never do.
but it WIS true, and it was not later
than Thanksgiving Day that another
storm shook the Dixon household n
me discovery. Aunt Mary. spinster.
had written Brother Arthur that Grace
had confessed to her of an engage
ment. Again the banker began ner-
Sous tra' up and down the library.
while Thomas discr setly absented him
self from the room, and the family
cat arched his back and sought refuge
under the sofa
III see that renow, damn his irG
pudence! I'll end the business this
time or I'll end hini!"
But, my dear, I'm afraid Grace"
Mrs. Lixon was smothered.
Don't talk nonnense, Man," he con-
timed, brooking no interruption DO
you think | can allow myself To be
made the laughing stock of the town.
Why, the fellow hasn't cent in the
world. He's regular fortune hunter
"a spendthrift and of questionable
morals. Ltell you the thing is not to