The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1902-05-10
or FLOOR THREE.


young. well nurtured and within the
memory OF his old neighbors It was a
dark, rainy night in May when he alight-
en- IN the old, familiar station. He saw
al acquaintance Of the cid days hlrryine
across the area. The man owed him so.
n ms own pocket was 20 cents. But
his clothes were threadbare faded and
li-ftting ard he could not bring him
self % accost his debtor. RaOul was tired
and hungry. He had come west from
Buffalo IN day coaches with few opportu-
mites and small means to satisfy his hun
ger.
He knew exactly the way to his old
hoIne, but as he wandered thither he re-
allzed that the growing traffic Of the
town had encroached upon what once
/ vas the most aristocTatic section. As he
! trudged along in the narrow shelter Of
/ the houses, he remembered the very cor
ners he had turned. riding in the cab
which bore him upon his first start" for
Germany. These had been noble, radi-
| ant. halcyon days. when he babe good
oy 10 his father and friends and set out
for tour Of Europe and a course of study
at Leipsic. There was no reason why he
1 should 50 to the old home. His father
was dead, his family scattered and poor
IL had all happened ike a devastating
/ storm Of the prairies while he was cross
! ing the sea. Even the funeral had oc-
7 III ANA4 bFAoAc 1t GtIEutQ new OK. len
! years had passed since he had learned
! that he was an orphan, pauper, an out
/ cast of fortune
Raoul was a very commonplace man.
/ He had done the best he knew. and was
/ quite sure that it was very bad. After
I decade Of precarious adventure in q dozen
/ trades he was now 50 poor that the an
( icipation of breakfast was almost as re-
mote and faEtastical.as his boyish dreams
o. heaven. He went into a cheap cafe
near the deDOt and bought a meal of ba-
con and eggs, with bad coffee and faded
lettuce as tokens OF the prodigality of the
menu. When he came out the rain was
| falling in cold, shifting sheets. though Ii
VAS May. He turned up his coat collar
and edged along by the walls toward
the old house. Ten years make a mighty
change in the average American city
Raoul found outbuilt. one-story store
fronts in some of the old mansions where
the elite Of the older day had lived and
triumphed. The old corner church, whose
chime OF bells was yet fresh in his mem
DRY, had been transformed into a bar
room, with wine parlor and a gayety
where once had been sanctuary and
auditorium.
He recalled with bitter smile the sto-
res he had told his cousin Marguerite in
Leipslc Of the glories. the freedom, the
opportunity. the republicanism of his
home. OF what fields there We're for her
young genius as q musician; of What
hope there was cor her un-German yearn-
ing for personal recognition. How
lucky, thought he, that she had sense
enough to forget my invitation to visit
us-to visit the Delisles-and know at first
hand the splendor which 1 then thought
to be real
He skunk down the street, bending his
thin face from the slanting rain. He be-
oar 70 r1as.a l1p he
night. The wind blew keen and chill
against his tattered front. His heart.
warm yet with the unbidden memory of
Marguerite, his yellow-haired cousin of
the far land, was not cast down
L shall pass by the old home" he
thought
And then he looked into the gray, ashen,
Tain-swept lot where he had played mar
bies and flown his kite when a boy. There
was frost in the whipping wind which
swept across il. and Raoul, alert now and !
yet Obvious of the years FASTENED along
till he stood in the wet shadows of the
old hOuse-the home that had been his
fathers and might have been his own.
The old iron paling that had separated |
its narrow lawn from the sidewalk was |
battered and rusty He looked up at its |
foggy walls and felt the tweak of pity at |
his heart when he saw that some Of it's |
blank unlighted windows We're broken. |
He lodged into the shelter of its squalid |
doorway and tried TO picture that last |
day of its activity-the day when they /
bore away his bankrupt, broken-hearted |
father The flare of kerosene lamps at |
the lunch counter next door distracted |
him. A dismal stopping figure crossed /
the street yelling "Crawfeesh," Some /
slatternly women, with shawls on their /
heads, speaking in Iaucous voices and /
laughing boisterously, ran across the
lighted crossing.
What a lucky thing for Marguerite"
he was thinking, lucky that she stayed
az home with her cheese making. and
her cow milking" And then he thought
OF the tawney-haired girl, with the big
blue eyes and the yearning lips who had
listened to his stories Of America. But
the night came down colder and colder
tin Raoul fingered the two silver times
ia his wet pocket and wondered what he
should do for shelter. A gust of drench-
ing wet wind drove him against the door.
His hand rested upon the knob. He
turned it and entered. The sound Of his
first football echoed among the empty |
spaces. The smell of Wondering wall pa
per and dank SCOT stifcd him.
II am at home he said smiling sar-
donicaIy At the whim He went TO the
newell post which had been the goal Of
a thousand swift descents along the ban
lister ia the days OF his curls and knicker-
bockers. Like the floors. the slls, the
walls and the stairs. it was deep beneath
the rust and dust Of disuse and neglect. |
The window at the first landing was bro
ken. The rain swept i'm and the wind howl
"a ike Miserere. bat he went up and
Tho days he haG witnessed
-hc ci-cus parade from that vantage.
Dark as il vas. he wanceeod up and
back into the old nursery. To the room
that had been his mothers. 10 the IL
5ras1. where his father, in stern but
yielding aioofaess, had written his jour
lai of the war. 70 tie third story-the
guest chambers. where once OH Caspar
Whitfield the father OF Marguerite. had
seen a guest Of honor
The dust rose in the DARK rs he tramp /
ID atone through the unseen scenes OF |
his youth. but he went from room 20
'oom. tired hearl-worn. but glad that /
here was roof above him and that ne /
ma debris OF the home that he had known
iTst and best
When he stamped and stumbled up the
arrow stairvav chat led - the attic.
lurEert. wet and soaTE smell struck bis
lostrlls. when he came 70 the ton ha
vec Boz the old pla1-Too-n- memorable
h,efy Ter The swilg that had once hung | S
RON The rafteTs. B1t some wet. woolen /
-br5c sIucte hiu- il the face lie struck
match and saw across the dina room ;
he ghostlv outlines Of garments drape1 / 2
rom o cloJhssiine.
-Humah be- muttered- There must {
q sauatter acre
ard .lel he saw. glowing from under
b. door u rne old IEmber-r1aUs, Te1-
.uu Hght He tlp-toed aeross the creak-
nE aopr a-d reF1t-
'-Nukdr-lr-e-. said a sweet voice as e
he door ev-ur- traad ana the food - &
e.lov Ight from the open roous almost e