The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1902-10-17
rs.G1enfie1d's
Boarder
By HELEN F. GRAVES.
6O6FdSI
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ssI rs no use talking said Mrs.
Glenfield, energetically. Poor?
Yes, dare say he's poor; but so am L
poor. L need the money for my rent,
and this is six weeks he's behind. Go
to his room, Ernestine, and take the
bill; it's high time the money was
paid
Mrs. Glenfield was a sharp-nosed,
long-featured matron, whose face,
originally pleasant enough, had grown
sharp and acid with years of weary
struggling to make both ends meet.
A widow who keeps a New York board
inghouse has plenty of opportunity to
look on the shady side of things, and
Mrs Glenfield, somehow, found herself
growing misanthropical as she grew
older.
Ernestine, her eldest daughter, took
the proffered slip of paper, somewhat
reluctantly, and went slowly upstairs
with it.
She was a slight, small creature,
with bright brown eyes, hair of soft
chestnut hue, and arch, pretty fea-
lures. If Ernestine Glenfield had been
the petted daughter of rich man, her
natural advantages set off by swans
down, silk, and jewels, the world
would have pronounced her a beauty.
AS it was, with fate and fortune
against her, she even was remarkably
pretty.
She knocked softly at Mr.. Harney's
door, and detected voice answered.:
"Come in"
Ernestine pushed open the door and
entered.
Wallace Harvey sat at the dinghy
covered table, his head resting on his
hands. The handful of sullen-looking
red coal glowed like vindictive eye
from the socket of the CRATE. A pile
of papers, loosely tied together, lay on
the table, close to his hand, with an
open note, containing the respectful
ly declined" of some great publisher,
who had never taken the trouble to
read Wallace Harney's carefully writ
ten manuscript.
Mr.. Harvey was a young man, prob
ably 80 years of age, but he felt much
older. He had been fighting destiny
all his life, and up to the present mo-
counter. No wonder that he felt al
most inclined to despair.
He started up, however, at the light
sound of Ernestine's footsteps on the
worn carpet.
Miss Glenfield!"
''You used to call me Ernestine," she
said, half laughing. "What makes you
so ceremoniouS now?"
'I don't know" he said, vaguely,
pushing the damp hair from his hot
forehead. "Did you want anything of
me?"
Ernestine colored and hesitated-
then she laid the bill on the table close
to the memorable editors note. Wal
lace Harvey saw it, and his cheek grew
as scarlet as her own. "a
Mamma wishes-that /, is, she
hopes" hesitated poor Ernestine,
who was a very bad hand at deceiving.
at lsee." said Mr.. Harvey, "'your
money or your life'-that is the fash
ionable formula nowadays. But if you
happen to have no money, what then?''
"I-I am very sorry" said Ernestine,
meekly.
81 do not know why you should be-
said Mr.. Harvey. cit is six weeks
since I have paid your mother any
thing, but it is not became have not
been working hard"
Mammals rent came due last week, ~
said Ernestine, feeling as if every drop
of blood in her body were turned to
liquid fire. "and-oh, Mr.. Harvey, am
so sorryi"
The last words broke from her lips
as she saw the panied look of NORTH
cation in the young authors face. In
voluntarily she put her hand in hel
pocket, and drew out a rustling $2(
bill.
ssUncle Jason gave it to me for new
DRESS" she said. ''but my old one is
good yet-black silk always looks well
you know, no matter, how long yo,
have worn it. Please, please, Mr.. Har
ney, take it. "
He pushed away her soft little hant
almost irritably.
s'Ernestine!" he cried, passionately
"I am not yet fallen so low as to TAX,
your little capital"
.sBut you will pay me back som,
day." she urged, still holding out tn,
bill.
al would rather not risk il"
"Tben let me give it to you. Oh, Mr.
Harvey, pleased"
He looked up in her face with sar
donic sort of laugh-the soft, pityini