Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1902-04-24
ACROSS 3,
THE lansn s1RsE
COURT SSs
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BIZ I. C. BYRNE

| seldom do. There are several good
reasons why they don't, but that has
nothing to do with this story.
| The office was also an inside one
that is, it looked out on a court,
great well-like space bounded by four
| walls-not blind, blank walls, but walls
fairly bristling with staring, impudent
windows.
| Behind those windows myriads of
busy men and women worked at
schemes by which they hoped to en-
rich themselves and, sometimes, Incl
dentally to impoverish others; schemes
as farreaching In their consequences
as the stone which, thrown into
stream, sends a ripple to the farthest
shore.
Still. though these schemes may have
been interesting to thoughtful man
making a study of the great tragi-
comedy of life, neither the walls nor
the windows were particularly so. Yet
| O'Neill passed a large part of his time
gazing intently at the window opposite
his own.
Time and again when he had seated
l himself at his desk, determined to add
a chapter to the book destined to bring
| him fame, and, what was Of even more
vital Importance, to pay his most press
| ing bills, he found his glances wander
| ing across the space which separated
| him from the desire Of his eyes,
81 wish she'd move her desk" he
muttered half angrily one day as he
| found himself as usual watching Instead
| of working-watching the slender,
| modestly dressed girl who sat in the
| window working SO busily that she
| had no time to discover that opposite
| her was q young man whose valuable
| time she was wasting. Or II she had,
| she had never revealed the fact But
| the ways of a maid with man are
| not always simple and she may have
| been wiser in her generation than he
| knew.
He had scarcely uttered the wish be-
| fore he was fearful that it might come
| to pass, SO he cried out hastily, as II
| anxious to propitiate some Jealous
| eavesdropping god who might take
| him at his word: mo, don't. I'll take
| it all back, dear little saint" In fairy
| tales men have been granted thought
less wishes to their own undoing and
| she 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 If asked. Yet he
felt that it suited her better than any
other name he might have used. Per-
haps 1t was because she never seemed
conscious of him-saints have way
Of ignoring poor mortals; perhaps be-
cause she parted her dark hair, Ma
donna wise, over her rather pale face
In a fashion that added solemnity to
its youthful seriousness; perhaps be-
cause the man who sometimes stood
near her, debating letters to her, look
ed such a sinner that by the law of
contrast he made one think of saints.
O'Neill, at least, thought he looked |
like a sinner and one for whom there |
was no hope.
"Old satyrw he growled at him as, |
watching from the shallow depths of |
his bare little Office, he saw him lay |
too familiar hand on the girls shoul- |
der. Il don't like his polygamous eye
brows. BY Jovel What a scoundrelp'
For the satyr had suddenly stopped
and kissed the saint.
O'Neill saw the start which showed
how unexpected the caress was, could |
almost hear the frightened exclama-
tion 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,
fiery with righteous Indignation. He |
flung himself into the corridor and |
started around in blind zeal to do
something, anything The need for ac
tion was strong within him. But be-
fore he made the first turning he felt
how impotent he was, for he realized
instlnctively that the saint would
shrink from the publicity of a scene.
But he was determined that she
should work no more for that man If
he could help 1t. Doesn't 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, politician, a pro-
| fessional corrupter Of legislatures.
And the saint? Oh, little typewriter,
Miss Browne, who seemed rather de-
pure 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 in summary of the vlrtues
Then O'NeilI wrote her letter such
as Galahad, had he lived In these siren
uons days, might have written. He
| explained how he had seen the affront
| to which she had been subjected, re-
| gretted deeply that as his own law
| practice was such negative quantity
he could not give her a regular posi-
| tion as his stenographer, but offered
| her desk room in his Office and assured
4 her that be 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 a
| 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. .-sefined and
| glorined by life. But the young man
was too young, Zoo little OF an artist,
/ to appreciate that. Both women were
so grateful 1t 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 fiat.
He ceased gazing across the court
during his business hours, for was she
not enshrlned In his own office? She
was busy, too, earning more money
than when with the satyr, for O'NeIll
had proved a good soi9tor, aud he had
secured her more work than she could
| do.
Her un1agglng 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, whyY she said, opening wide
her big, brown eyes, that perhaps look
| ed more ignorant Of his meaning than
they really were. II am not so very
good. You know have an awful tenn
per-"
ggt