The suburban citizen., 1900-03-03

&kS. n enough. After
H9E7st,5;S,r - the court ad-
<esSs sYS8M journed in the early
{SSNSSsN AA6M afternoon he al
%lMA4sseSA ~ ways took ride
"SNNS~% on his bicycle and
naver failed to visit the beautiful
stretch of boulevard recently opened
along the string of lakes.
They both came of good families, or
at least well-to-do families, and their
manner led him to think there was
good breeding behind them. How,
then, did he come to know that they
loved each other? You ask. How was
it possible not to know it? He was
not always past Fifty, and he had a
good memory.
So when the Judge noticed the way
'he' looked at cher" and the way
"she" looked at "him" and the ten
derness of the young mans courtesy
the judge knew well enough how mat
ters were.
She was beautiful woman,
not over twenty, 'and gave one min
preston of trigness and neatness. A
woman would say she wore a becom-
ing suit that fitted her. She was Pc
tite, with one of those fresh, spark
ling faces so seldom seen among over
worked society girls.
He was a manly chap of twenty
two, athletic, bronzed and thorough
ly "6t," as my nephew says. My
nephew plays on the VARSITY" foot
ball team and is authority in our
family on such matters.
And they noticed the Judge. After
awhile he got into the way of bowing
to them, although they didn't know
he was Judge Storrow and he didn't
know them.
One dreamy Indian summer after
mood the Judge went up among the
trees on the side of the lake to a
sheltered nook lie knew and lay down
to rest. There had been puzzling
case before him that morning, and
while thinking it over he must have
fallen asleep.
He was suddenly aware that just
outside his shelter man and woman
were talking. He did not know what
to do.
He soon discovered that they were
''his lovers as he called them, and
they were discussing some unhappy
circumstance regarding their af'ec-
tion.
What could he do? There was no
way out except past them. Would it
be better to come out and so let them
know he had heard their talk, OF
would it be more delicate to remain
till they had gone, not listening, and
they would never know that any one
had overheard them. He decided son
the latter alternative and remained
perfectly quite.
But try as he would it was impossi-
BILE not to hear their whole converse
| tion.
''But what difference does that
maker" asked the young man. "You
know perfectly well, Alice, that if it
were thousand times worse, that if
it were you yourself, I would marry
you"
"Oh, but think of it, Ned! Think
what your friends would sayl Ned
Grant married the daughter of an
embezzler serving his time IN Jail. ="
The judge couldn't help wondering
If this were the son of Grant on the
Supreme bench, whom he had never
met, although he knew his father in
timately. The girls gentle voice
broke as she said this, and Ned cried:
"oh, Alice, L wish you wouldn't
think Of that. 1t just breaks me up
to see you cry, you know"
Then followed a silence during
which Alice must have been in some
way comforted, for she said in a steady
voice:
''No, my dear boy. I have been
very weak to see you so often and
have these rides. / should have re-
fused and tried to forget you. But,
Ned, 1 couldn't 1 can't think ofany-
thing but you-and-I do love you
SOL"
More silence. Then:
"And, Ned, this really must be the
last. / can't marry you. No, dear,
please don't go all over it again /
know that it would be a great wrong
to you to say yes. 1t would always
be a hindrance to you. We would
have no friends, and a young lawyer
must have friends. Who would come
to your house if they knew your wife
was the daughter of Rand, the en-
! bezzler?"
That was where the Judge almost
discovered himself. He sentenced
Rand to twenty years hard labor, and
be had still fifteen years to serve 1t
was a queer case and not quite clear.
I 80 this was the motherless girl he had
heard so much about.
''Now, see here, Alice" the young
man said, "you know it takes two to
make a quarrel and it takes two to
10 re C. separation. So while you may