The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1902-02-18
oopYR1aHT. lsos. BYL 9. BYRNE

Wish Sne,Q move uer 0eSk, Ne
nnuttered half angrily one day as he
found himself as usual watching instead
Of working watching the slender,
rnedestly dressed girl who sat in the
window working SO busily that she
hal no time to discover that opposite
hel. was young man whose valuable
time she was wasting. Or If she had,
she had never revealed the fact. But
tho ways Of a maid with man are
not always simple and she may have
BEEN wiser In her generation than he
knew.
lie had scarcely uttered the wish be-
fore he was fearful that it might come
10 pass, SO he cried out hastily, as If
anxious to propitiate some jealous
eavesdropping god who might take
him at his word: mo, / don't. I'll take
1t all back, dear little saint" In fairy
tales men have been granted thought
less wishes to their own undoing and
abe was the princess of his fairy tale.
Why, then, did he call her the saint ?
He hardly knew. He certainly could
NOT have told why II asked. Yet he
felt that it suited her better than any
other name he might have used. Per-
hips It was because she never seemed
CONSCIOUS of him-eaints have q way
Of. ignoring poor mortals; perhaps be-
cause she parted her dark hair, Ma
donna wise, over her rather pale face
Iii q fashion that added solemnity to
its youthful seriousness; perhaps be-
cause the man who sometimes stood
near her, debating letters to her. look
ell such a sinner that by the law Of
contrast he made one think of saints.
+ O'Neill, at least, thought he looked
like sinner and one for whom there
vras no hope.
"Old satyrr' he growled at him as,
watching from the shallow depths Of
his bare little Office, he saw him lay a
too familiar hand ON the girls Shout
der. Il don't like bis polygamous eye
trows. BY Jovel What a scoundrelr'
1ror the satyr had suddenly stopped
snd kissed the saint.
O'Neill saw the start which showed
how unexpected the caress was, could
almost hear the frightened excIama-
lion with which she sprang to her feet.
In another moment she stood with her
hat ON, covering her typewriter, and
then she was gone.
The young lawyer was hot with rage,
liery with righteous Indignation. He
Hung himself into the corridor and
started around in blind zeal to do
something, anything. The need for ac-
Hon was strong within him. But be-
fore he made the first turning he felt
how impotent he was, for he realized
instinctively that the saint would
shrink from the publicity Of scene.
But he was determined that she
should work no more for that man II
he could help It Doesn't a saint be-
long to the one who worships? And
have not men Of all times and of all
nations come forth gladly to death
rather than have their idols desecrat-
ed?
Adroitly enough, he learned who the
man was, lawyer, a politician, pro-
fessional corrupter of legislatures.
And the saint? oh, little typewriter,
Miss Browne, who seemed rather de-
mure for a 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 in a summary Of the virtuesi
Then O'Neill wrote her letter such
rs Galahad, had he lived In these siren
nous days, might have written. He
explained how he had seen the affront
to which she had been subjected, re-
GREETED deeply that as his own law
practice was such negative quantity
he could not give her regular posi-
ton 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 build
ing, who, like himself, needed work
done, but whose meager incomes
would not permit them to employ q
stenographer the entire time.
The answer was a formal little note
requesting 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, an edition
de luxe Of her daughter, refined and
slerined by life. But the young man
was too young, too little of an artist,
to appreciate that. Both women were
90 grateful It was not strange that he
went again and often. And he found
himself wondering at the truly mar
velous way in which women can i'm
part an atmosphere Of home and refine
ment to even a four room fat
He ceased gazing across the court
during his business hours, for was she
not enshrined In his own oficef She
was busy, too, earning more money
than when with the satyr, for O'Neill
had proved a good solicitor, and he had
secured her more work than she could
do.
Her unfiagging industry aroused his
own zeal, shamed him into emulation.
and the book, until then only dreamed
of,.was In the publishers hands before
he dared to tell her how long he had
called her the .'saint" when her real
name was mystery.
"But, whyT she said, opening wide
her big, brown eyes, that perhaps look
ed more ignorant of his meaning than
they really were. 81 am not so very
good. You know / have an awful tenn
per-"
.'Goodr' he exclaimed. ooh, could
say my prayers to you'll If I WEREN'T
such beggar I'd ask Then be
stopped. How could an unworthy man
ask saint to stoop, save in pity, and
he did not want pityI
Il thought beggars were the ones
who needed to ask" she said softly.
"But want 80 much" be pleaded.
Il am sorry" she faltered, though an
acute observer would have thought
that the eyes, shining like stars, were
frightened by other emotions than sor.
row, for have but little to give"
$50 little! Oh, my saint'-implor-
ingiy-"you can give me heaven-if
you only viii, II you only willp'
ut isn't mine to give to you. you sac.
religious boy. and If 1t were I 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-'sbut I think we
could find It together"
And then-oh, the strange unreason.
ableness Of mant-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; %