The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-12-14

the big stove and eat their luncheon from
box, basket or bucket, as the case may be,
or stroll along the crowded street in pairs.
two dipping into paper bag of sweets with
ardent enjoyment.
The maid at the machine is torn with nu-
merous 2artialities. There is the little
blonde one with the peach-blossom face.
large. blue, appealing eyes, gentle voice
and angelic expression. Into any heart his
affectionate manner and soft infections
would win their way. And he is the very
boy who grasps the wrong end of the poker
and burns himself terribly. The girl could
weep over him, but the hardened office men,
after soothing lotions have been applied to
the small palm, joke him and assure him
that 1t is an unfailing test which will in
variably decide which is the right end of
the poker. What a faint. pale smile this
brings to Charles face. For he is Char
lie," and in fact 20 per cent. of the boys who
come and go prove to be Charles IL they are
not Franks. There are a good many Rob-
erts, too, and that Is the title Of the square
shouldeI ed one with the manly air, the
coppery-red, bullet-shaped head. He COM
pletely captivates the fancy of The type
writer GIRL but he is overwhelmingly shy.
girl insinuates to the cap in that it is with
in his jurisdiction to wasf the faces OF the
messenger boys, privilege which he laugh
ingly disclaims. So she ventures timidly:
Robert. you're too nice looking boy to
have such dirty face. Go and wash it,
won't you?" He runs away and soon re-
turns with shining face and conscious half
smile. but after this he only looks at the
vx,;c cid h fe (wosA he
will repeat that strange request.
The girl at the typewriter sometimes
doubts that she is gifted in reading the
character of small boys. 1t is a source Of
modification to her when she discovers
that the very polite little boy she had so
liked disappears from the circle and that
the blank-faced, staring one with the alb
rupt manners turns out to be a treasure.
She finds it hard to win even glance from
the tiny one who chews whole nickel's
worth of tolu at once with brisk air Of
concentration, and he would doubtless snub
her if she expressed the sympathy she feels
when an entire ream Of salmon paper en-
tiers the street door and moves up the
passage with only his staggering little legs
visible beneath it, 1t is the little raven
haired waif with locks belligerently awry
and burning brown eyes who is completely
consumed with admiration for 1.-The boss
1.-THE boss" noted the tragic little face Of
this motherless boy and bought him a suit
of clothes and sent him for a two weeks
rest in the country, where, as the youngster
related it TO the girl, II wasn't a bit home
sick Che had no honey / just filled myself
up with cherries and made myself COM
Portable" L; is with uplifted feeling of
success that the girl learns that she has
been missed by the lad with the auburn
locks and Addie-Ledyard eyelashes, and in
quired for under the title of 1.-THE nice
lady," but the ones she likes the best are
Invariably promoted beyond her sphere in
Il short while, and she sees them no more.
And at last, when she meets the brightest,
dearing little chap. staggering along a
fashionable thoroughfare smoking pipe
with all the assurance of veteran smoker,
the typewriter girl suffers a great shock to
| the very depths of her confiding soul, and
her faith In the charming guise which
| youthful human nature ass INES is almost
| shattered.
To these small Ci aps. however, the Sc
| robustness of business life has not become
| oppressive, as this feminine looker-on
| thinks when she questions two of them who
seat themselves on the visitors bench.
awaiting the return of the bookkeeper from
| luncheon. What is the matter, boys?" she
| asks. and they cheerfully respond, Were
] fred