Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1903-01-01

end would come then and there. But |
the spell did not last as long as he
feared, and Barton said as soon as he
was able to speak:
"She's getting out Of gasoline or
something. That squirt she made at
1870 winded her. There! Let me down
again. And give me that stun in the
bottle It's no particular good only it
keeps the cough from thinking Of me
all the time the stuff's SO strong and
bad tasting"
Gordon gave him the medicine, and
Barton lay back exhausted. After
moment he whispered:
"Read the story If you want to. But,
II you are going to swear or anything
ut the close and want help. ask Will
liams to 20 out into the hall. Give him
dollar. and he'll pitch into Harris
and the News as long as you want"
John Gordon picked up the paper and
went over by the table. He seldom
saw the News. and he never read it.
His " hole refined nature rebelled in
disgust at the monstrosity of yellow
journalism. but his curiosity was
strong enout to make him read what
Barton seem. d so genuinely sorrow for.
The heaGliAes were bold and obtru-
sive:
"Quarreis With His Father! John
Gordon Son of Rufus Gordon, the
Banker and Stock Manipulation, Goes
TO Live at Hope House. A Rich Slum
mer. Breaks With His Fiancee Miss
Lucia Marsh. A Stormy Interview.
Miss Marsh Refuses to Go With Him.
All the Parties Prominent In Business
and Social Circles. Mr. Gordon Re
pudiates His Son. Miss Marsh Refuses
to Talk. Does Not Deny Interview
- Make a Special Study of Tenement
House Conditions In Bowen Street"
The whole "story' occupied two col
umns. and directly under the headlines.
which covered two columns in width,
were two cuts. one of John Gordon and
the other of Luclla Marsh. The title
under these cuts read, cupid Balks at
Social Sacrifice"
John Gordon read the headlines and
glnred at the pictures. Then he
crushed the paper between his hands
and flung it on the floor.
"Ring the bell for Williams, John. l
think he's in the pantry. You need his
help to do it justice. Sorry l don't feel
able to chip in with YOU"
For a moment John Gordon stood
! still by the table; then he came over
and sat down by his friend.
/ II don't care for myself. but Luella.
David, it's horrible invasion Of all
/ ones sacred private affairs. l have
never understood how you could believe
in that sort of Journalism"
David Barton looked lovingly at John
Gordon His cynical. whimsical. reck-
less manner disappeared for moment.
Il don't believe in it. Never did,
John. It's purely business with me.
I'm awfully sorry for you. What do |
believe anyway? My whole life has
contradictcd my creed. But maybe
there's hope for me yet. What do You
think? AEl | too bad to repent and be
saved"
John Gordon stared at his friend, and
in a moment his own deep. abiding, re-
ligious experience reminded him that
here was & soul CROPPING after light.
David" he exclaimed softly, enc
one is too bad TO repent and be saved
Oh. David. Christ makes all life worth
while"
Il believe that" the reply came in a
whisper, I've never said much, John
but I've tried to-
The usually cynical voice actually
broke with a sob that cut John Gordon
deep, although in that tense moment
which lad come on so swiftly there
friend had made.
He bent over and put a hand on Bar
tons, and they sat thus silent for &
gracious moment. It was significant
that neither of them had said a wore
about Barton's physical condition anc
his hopeless future. 50 far as physca
life was concerned. The stiffness il
the room was suddenly interrupted b!
clnnC ont OH the street.
Gordon went over TO the window anc
looked out
THE department is making a flint
run" he said briefly to Barton.
1t was late and the avenue was nj
most empty of traffic. \ team of pure
white horses on the engine which pre-
coded the hose and ladder wagon
plunged forward with a desperate bu
glad abandon that struck fire from III
pavement and whirlcd the engine alon'
with mad but glorious energy tina
made human blood run faster and KEEP
the pulses beating with sympathy. TIL
driver and his assistant leaned for
ward, their bare heads tossing thei
; free hair behind; the whole seen
flashed by in the night like bit tor
out of a Roman chariot race Of tn
! Gead past, transformed by chance I
the modern municipality, whose street
> are lighted with electricity. and who's
J buildings loom up in the smoky al
3 like crags beside the prairie sea.
The whirlng group swept around tn
4 corner at the end of the next blocl
Stacking speed just enough to avoi
:, turning over. John Gordon came bac
= to Dnyid's side.
! "Whcrc is the fire?'
| 81 didn't notice the alarm. Must hay
e been IA still one
: Have you ever thought what woul
happen, John. if fire ever got u goo
/. chance around Hope House,"
"HaVe |? | think of il every time