The Minneapolis journal., 1901-11-12
F. N ACROSS THE COURT
GaSzN
E2 BYI.C. BYRNE.
4R
'COURI'
BY BYRNE .

1t. Doesn't saint belong to the who
worships? And have not men OF all times
ana or all nations come forth gladly to death
rather than have their idols desecrated?
Adroitly enough, he learned who the man
Was-a lawyer, politician. professional cor
rupter OF legislatures And the saint? Oh, a
little typewriter, Miss Browne who seemed
rather demure for man like Lawson, who
was rather "a good fellow" Strange that
when some men say "a good fellow they are
thinking of qualities never found n d sum
mary of the virtues
Then O'Neill wrote her a letter such as
Galahad, had he lived in these strenuous
days, might have written. He explained how
he had seen the affront to which she had been
subjected, regretted deeply that as his own
law practice was such a negative quality
he could not give her a regular position as
his stenographer but offered her desk room
in his office and assured her that he would
secure her work from the other lawyers in
the building, who, like himself, needed work
done. but whose meager incomes would not
permit them to employ a stenographer the
entire time.
The answer was a formal little note re-
questing him to call at her home to meet her
mother.
He went, of course. The mother, soft voiced
and gentle eyed, explained the saint She
was, indeed, edition de luxe Of her daugh-
ter, refined and glorifed by life. But the
young man was too young too little of an
artist, to appreciate that Both women were
SO grateful, it was not strange that he went
again and often. And he found himself won
dering at the truly marvellous way in which
women can impart an atmosphere of home
and refinement to even a four-room fiat
He ceased gazing across the court during
his business hours, for was she not en-
shrined in his own office? She was busy,
tnp 1iT,or
satyr, for O'Neill had proved a good solicitor,
and he had secured her more work than she
could do.
Her unfaggng industry aroused his own
zeal, shamed him into emulation, aud the
book, until then only dreamed of, was IL
the publishers hands before he dared to
tell how long he had called her the saint"
when her real name was g mystery.
But why?" she said, opening wide her big.
brown eyes, that perhaps looked more ignor-
ant of his meaning than they really were.
Il am not so very good. You know ! have
awful temper"
Good he exclaimed. ooh, could say
my prayers to you! If l weren't such beg
gar I'd ask Then he stopped. How could
an unworthy man ask saint to stoop, save
| in pity, and he did not want pity!
Il thought beggars were the ones who
| needed to ask" she said softly.
But l want much, he pleaded
81 am sorry" she faltered, though an acute
| observer would have thought that the eyes.
shining like stars, were frightened by other
emotions than sorrow, for l have but little
to give"
so little! Oh, my saint'-lmpIoringly-
you can give me heaven-if you only will.
if you only will!'
1t isn't mine TO give you, you sacriliglous
! boy, and if it were l would want to keep it
for myself, but" and now he had to bend to
| hear, for her head was dropping and her voice
came softly, tremulously-"but l think we
could find it together"
And then-oh, the strange unreasonable
ness Of mani-he did the very thing that he
had condemned the satyr for doing. But his
| eyebrows, to be sure, were not polygamous.
and the saint, in her goodness, forgave
him; SO, perhaps, there was difference
ONeill's work, mostly clever magazine
articles and editorials, has been in such de-
mand since his book Strikes and Socialism
proved success that he needs the entire
| survices of the saint, whom his friends call
Mrs. ONeil And the heaven which they
share is colloquially known as the Happy
; Flat"