The Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Ky.) 1895-19??, 1903-05-12
CURING A CRIPPLE.
BY EDWARD b. CLARK.

ect SOleIH1hS spicy out OF that. Answer 1t,
follow 1t up and get good yarn. The strong
er the better, and if there is bit of lemon
color in tilt won't hurt anything"
Norah Clevenger took the clipping from
she city editors hand. 1t was an advertise
nent cut from contemporary daily. This
is what she read:
Wanted-a wife, more than 80 years old;
must be loving disposition; cripple pre-
;erred. Address Lock Box OF, Hoosiervine.
Indiana
Il think that's bona fde 'ad,' Miss Clev-
enger," said the city editor, "and the fellow
who stuck it in wants cripple. and that's
queer in itself. Write to him. meet him and
get your yarn. 1t ought to be good one"
Norah sat down and wrote letter, adj
dressing it to Lock Box OF, Hoosierville Ind.
One lied init, nothing less, but then that, too,
was part OF the business she had learned
at the Blaze Office. She said that she was a
cripple; that her right arm was paralyzed.
one told the truth, however, about her APP
pearance, and her age-she was 29-and then
asked that the lock box owner address her
at the general delivery window of the post
once, saying that she did not wish to give
ner proper address until she knew positively
that her correspondent was good man and
one who would not trihe with woman. She
signed the letter Mary Anderson.
Norah Clevenger waited three days before
an answer came to her communication.
When one did come she found that it was
written IN good hand and in good English.
1t was simple and straightforward The
writer said that he was a widower. "a years
old, with one child; had large stock and
fruit farm, which yielded good income, and
ne was laying up money. The letter gave
no reason why the writer wished to marry
a cripple
Moran Clevenger wrote again. She led
the writer on little in the next letter. and
with an audacity characteristic of the girl.
1nclosed her photograph. On the third day
she had an answer, which she showed the
clty editor, saying: I'm in for it, Mr. Ran
KIN. his name Is Moore, and he reaches the
city tonight, and I'm to meet him at thu
consolidated depot at eight o'clock Some
Oh the boys viii have to fix up my arm. Wen
put a brace of some kind on it or otherwise
III forget that it is supposedlto be paralyzed.
and I'd be swinging it around and give the
whole snap away. What in the world this
countryman wants cripple for is more
than can imagine, but there ought to be
cracking good story in it."
Norah Clevenger was at the Consolidated
depot at eight clock, with her right arm in
surgeons brace. Some girls would have felt
DIT OF trepldation at the prospect of meet
ing the stranger, but years of rather seamv
work had hardened the woman's nature.
one Walted In the passenger room The
Train roIied IN and in a minute or two there
came through the doorway tall, well-buit
man, with crisp, curly hair, sun-browned
cheeks and honest eyes. He was leading
little girl about five years old by the hand.
Norah Clevenger felt that it was the man
she was to meet, though a moment before
she could have sworn that her correspond.
ent was some fool of fellow with a cas- in
ms eye, painful limp and so ugly generally
that his very appearance would give answer
TO the question why he had not sought n
bride IN the vicinity of Hoosierville. The
man looked about the station. His ewes fell
on Norah, and then went quickly to her arm.
lie saw the surgeons brace and walking for
ward raised his hat and said "Miss Ander-
soh, l believe. am George Moore. This in
my little girl Frances
The little one held out both hands to
Moran and lifted her face to be kissed. This
writer OF stories with a. touch of saffron in
them felt something of shock. but she bent
over and kissed the child's red lips
Let US sit down for a moment. Miss An.
i
you are crippled. My wife, who died four
years ago, was cripple l tell YOU frank.
Iy that loved her, and the fact that sbe
was dependent on me because of her Grim
pied state made me learn the delight that
there is in doing for others. was selfish
man, but learned unselfshness, and it made
me happy. l don't know much of the world
and feel that to advertise for wife NAV
not be considered right, but l say honestly
tnat there was none near home whom I
wished even could / have chosen"
Moran Clevenger felt uncomfortable. She
hardly liked to admit it to herself. She knew
that the man was fair and above board. and
that she haC been doing something that was
unwomanly. Sc had done unwomanlv
things before in the interest of story. but
this thing cut. Tee little girl had slipped into
her lap by this time, and was talking to her
softly. M pore rose suddenly. 81 forgot
something re said "Stay with Miss An.
dersOn a minute, Frances" and then he dis.
appeared in the direction of the baggage.
room. In minute he was back with hugo
baskeE Oh lis arm, and, raising the cover.
he showed i. to be full of black Hamburg
grapes. These are for the Crippled Chill.
dren'S ONE" he said; 81 send fru;t in ev-
cry We * because of my memories thought
Wol'iT DflDg the grapes myself this time
raise them in my otaouse III give them
to an ex0res. man, and he can get them to
the hospital. so that the tots can have them
in the morning"
Norah Clevenger rose from her seat. 'Mr.
Moore she said, 81 have met you as you
asked. l must go now. I'll write you to.
morrow"
No story in this for us, Mr. Rankin" she
said to the city editor an hour later, cor if
there is l won't write it." And Norah Clev.
enger left the Office and went home Next
day she wrote letter, and sent it to George
Moore, Hoosierville Ind. Prior to writing
it she had inquired at the Crippled Childrens'
home, and found out all about the man, his
kindliness and his honesty, though she felt
that she needed no character assurance save
that given her by the memory of his face.
In the letter she told him the whole story.
"When wrote you that was cripple" she
said, 81 thought l was lying, but have
found out since that was cripple of the
worst kind, in short, my conscience was
crippled, but it certainly is healed now, and
it is active enough to smite me-"
Norah Clevenger still wrote for the Blaze,