Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1901-08-13

than anything else to patch up the
troubles between the company and Its
men. He might have been torn to
pieces. and he risked 1t to see how the
wounded man was. Radford's wound
was but slight one-principally shock
and he was shortly around.
On returning to the street DENLY
found that the militia was already p0-
Icing the crowd. At his Office Della
field, the manager, met him. For the
first time In his life the manager was
demonstrative.
"My dear boy, my dear boyl I can
never say enough Of your pluck"
at wouldn't have amounted to much
II you hadn't turned up, and now-l
can't hold up-I must get some Sleep"
And presently he was tumbled on bis
bed, his clothes all on.
Hours after he awoke. The window
was open. 1t was wonderfully still.
You could hear the splashing Of the lit
tie stream not far away. His eyes. half
open, saw the pines on the hillside.
Then it was not these things at all,
but a long stretch Of lawn, with be-
yond an old red brick house. 1t was
his own; 1t was home. And the finest
gentleman in all the world was walk
ing there-the dear old general-while
presently his mother drove up in her
phaeton and called to him. But he
said he hadn't time, because he was
teaching Annie how not to "muff''
ball. Annie was chubby faced, small
girl. who laughed at this and said she
knew as much about II as he.
And then there were other scenes and
other faces-his brothers and his sister
and always somewhere In the back
ground that chubby girl whose face.
after time. to be sure, grew less chub-
by, and when he was back from school
she was almost grown up" and didn't
seem to think much Of him or he Of her.
Then, again, 1t was school and soon
college-friends who had gone from
him; events that were like dreams, just
as all life is q dream to the dead.
He now was watching boat race,
now dancing at promenade" with
Annie, now again in far Westchester.
and then he was in London and all
about-your young man Of the world.
Soon he was very much your man of
many clubs and Of the town.
He had two sides to his nature, one
strong for the inherited sense Of the
gentleman, the other for pleasure, and
subtly pleasure sapped the strength. 1t
was DENLY here and DENLY there-a
youth to be talked about. Annie now
was a quiet young woman, OF whom he
saw little. But life was the best fun.
Presently he was doing things he
once would not have thought Of doing,
and then more of them and more Of
them, until they spelled disgrace, and
men began to cut him, for he was full
of force and passion for whatever he
did, and his was not the nature to
brook criticism. Men told their women
friends that they would not be seen
with him. Annie's brothers, once his
warmest friends, told her that people
fed from him rs rats from sinking
ship. But he had new friends, not
such nice ones, to be sure, and soon.
when certain successes he had had
on "the street" turned to failures,
these, too, began the cutting" proc
ess-"Fellows l wouldn't have in my
house." DENLY said.
Then there came the dreadful day
when the dear old general turned as
adamant and told him he had disgrac-
ed the family.
But his mother, in the graveyard,
could not know-or did she know?
In town things went from bad to
worse. If sullen pride often held him
up, there were other days when shame
tore Denby's heart. His friends were
gone; his family was gone; he was
snubbed at the clubs; he had become
ore of those who disappear" You
see them about for some years, and
then they vanish. and you wonder
"where."
OF day at this period Of his career
he passed Annie somewhere near
Washington square. She bowed as
graciously as ever. He replied as stiff
ly as he could. But she looked back
and called out:
"Why, Jim; why don't you ever call
now"
"I-I haven't time, and, you know
you know, you ought not to want to
see me-"
"I will prove that. You simply have
to persist-not 20 give up. It's work
you want-wOrk-work. AS for you,
Jim, l have known you too long-not
to want to see you at any time-under
any circumstances"
She spoke rapidly, and her eyes and
words were earnest, and he was out OF
her class, utterly out Of it-a man un'
classed.
He broke away as soon as he could.
He did not want to have people see her
with him. There was too much scan
dal, true and untrue, about him, and'
thank heaven, he had something OF the
gentleman left.
But her words rang in his ears, ITS
work you want-wOrk."
He had dawdled and fooled and
thrown things away, but she had recog.
nized him with no forced smile. And
there was a way-the way OF work.
But what work could he do?
Yet the thought cheered him, and he
took pains for some days to return un'
cheerful mods by those as uncheerful.
Again he began to look at DENLY as the
name Of n line of men who had led
other men. He dropped certain &C.
quaintances who had shamed him.
And one day he went to Bronson
who knew him slightly.
He made no explanations, nor DID
Bronson require them. BE knew the
case, for DENLY was the talk OF the
town. He knew his family.
"You think you want to get away to
learn trader
"Where 1 am quite unknown. l want
an apprentices chance. That Is the
reason I am here. I want letter to