The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1903-11-11
1.-The Knot i'm the PearIs...
BY L.. PARRY TRUsCOTT.

dened with brains to acquire 1t in any
quantity.
And all 1.-THE time he was with her
he thought only of her eyes and his
own power to Waylay them from heav-
en-. But when he was not with her
many of his thoughts circled round the
cheap row of pearls she invariably
wore, and his mind, attuned to great
subjects, took to itself holiday and
spent it in wondering why she tied a
knot in them.
Was it of set design or did she really
think they looked better knotted?
There had come into his mind the first
time he saw her an old saying, long
forgotten, that girl knots her pearls
when she wants a love letter. Now,
did this girl of the innocent eyes in
this manner deliberately advertise a
want? And was it simply love let
ter she wanted, as one might covet
rare curio, or, say, a first edition2 Gle
said, first edition.. Or was it not,
perhaps, letter from a particular per-
son she had set her heart on? Some
one who might see the touching little
indication of readiness to receive
tenderly worded epistle some one who,
it was hoped, would be ready, would
be eager to comply. Although this last
possibility undoubtedly put the girl in
the better light, it is noteworthy that
it was not the idea he honestly ia
vored.
He followed the little story further.
For, If the knot was the result of any
thing more than merest accident or
other than a clumsy device for keeping
the row tightly round her white throat,
then, since as far as he knew, the knot
was never united; also, as far as he
knew. she did not get her letter. The
blue eyes were sometimes pathetic; in
time it grew to hurting him that she
should even possibly want what he
could SO easily have supplied. The
whole question, as childish as she was
and as strangely engrossing, haunted
and disturbed his leisure; and one
night, having just left her, he sat down
and wrote her letter.
The bulk of the talents for which
people praised him were in the habit
of emerging from the point of his pen,
and the letter was worthy of his repu-
tation without being at all above her
powers of appreciation-even suppos-
ing she was in all things as young as
she looked. 1t was simple, in fact,
as her speech, and as beautiful, after
it's fashion, as her eyes; and, reading
1t over, he knew he had never done
/ anything better But he wasn't as mad
as he might have looked-if any one
/ could have seen him-and he only
| posted it into his pocket. Having been
written to her, it was sacredly hers,
and to have 1t about him gave him a
feeling of pleasure he acknowledged
with a, laugh, and for once did not try
| to account for in words.
After that he wrote her a letter ev-
! cry time he saw her, and, but that
| something happened about the sixth
| time, it is a matter to wonder at how
| far he would have allowed his pockets
| to bulge.
What occurred was of the most COM
monplace description. In hunting for
something else he dropped one of the
| letters at her feet. She caught 1t up
with a little cry, why, it's addressed
| to mel" If he had not stopped her
she would have opened it there and
| then.
But he couldn't prevent her keeping
| 1t nor. prevent himself seeing the
| laugh in her eyes-a stray CLEAN that
! seemed to cast new light on the
pathway to heaven.
sIf you like it." he said, there are
more" and he took out the pack, turn
| ing it over.
! but if they're mine would much