The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1902-05-06
j Z, A n
y m " = III II . r. n 4 U
Copyright 1902 by Daily Story Publishing Company

When l came to Boston as a student
two years ago, little expected to be
living on Beacon Street at the end of
my course. My sojourn in New Eng
land began very modestly. My room
had been arranged for before I left
home, and l had consented to share
1t with some unknown young woman,
in order to lessen expenses. For weeks
that individual occupied my mind to
the almost entire exclusion Of every
thing else. conceived of her as an ex-
ample Of every type common to the
human race, and then as a composite
parsonage typical of nothing. OF
course, she would be Northerner, and
felt in my Southern soul that my
provincialisms would get the discipline
they needed.
Miss Latham, this is your new
roommate, Miss Courtenay, of Balti-
more"
am afraid / was little nervous
as l shook Miss Latham's hand, but
there was not the slightest trace of
self-consciousness on her part. We
were soon talking easily and naturally,
and fifteen minutes of pleasant COM
monplaces dissipated my nervousness.
Then she said:
shall have to ask you to excuse
me now, Miss Courtenay. l am doing
newspaper work, and must finish an
article this afternoon"
She went to her desk and began to
write. She did not look formidable,
and was so utterly oblivious of my
presence that I knew she could not
be criticising me. Indeed, in less than
a fortnight, found that, as far as
Miss Latham was concerned, | might
as well have been without provincial
isms
Miss Latham and l talked much of
our work. She almost never men
toned her personal affairs, and though
felt l really did not know her, l be-
gan to admire her thoroughly. Her
quiet, steady way of doing things, her
self-possession, and even her reserve
attracted me.
soon noticed that she was working
too hard. AS her physical strength
lessened, saw there was underneath
her quiet calmness something pa
thetic.
On Christmas eve came home in a
particularly bright mood. l ran light
ly up the steps-feeling sufficiently
buoyant to do away with the elevator
and opened our door, waving two let
tiers triumphantly.
Two lovely Christmas letters. Miss
Latham! The dearest sort OF letter
from home; and just the jolliest.
chummiest one from Brother Dom
Miss Latham sat in the armchair by
the window, also with an open letter
her mother's-in her hand She was
very still, and walked over to where
she sat. AS / reached her, saw a tear
fall on the letter. 1t was too much
for my impulsive Southern tempera-
ment Forgetting the reserve 1 knew
so well. l said unhesitatingly:
What is it, Jean?"
But didn't wait for any answer. 1
settled down on the arm Of the chair.
and drew her head close to my shout
der. We sat there in perfect silence
for awhile. Presently. she began to
talk, and soon understood the pathos
under jeans dignity.
1T happened twelve years ago, Hell
en-, when l was only eleven. Dick was
ten years older than L We lived on a
farm in Vermont, which had been in
our family for generations. Fathers
strongest wish was to have Dick STAY
on the farm. But Dick didn't like
farming, and went away to learn pro
fession. Father was very angry. He
forbade Dick to write to us, and moth
er's heart nearly broke Two years
ago father died. We had then lost all
trace of Dick, and mother went to live
with Sister Louise I came to Boston
to earn my living. and look for Dick.
If could only find him, Helen, and
give him back to mother, / don't be-
lieve there would be anything left to
wish for. Before father died, some
one from our village saw Dick in Bos-
F\,[Il.t