The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-03-31

you SO, ssilu MISS Scare, glanclnS over
her shoulder at the bottle-decorated mirror
:" 'Tisn't though you were good-looking. :"
"A man can't help his features" argued
young Mr.. Wincham.
"A man might try.
Pretty hard on me, though" said the
youth, ''admiring you as 1 do. to have to
come in here TO this bar and watch you
engaged in talk with some one 1 never saw
before
What makes your" asked Miss Searle,
her big eyes wide open conveying a desire
for information.
'Love." said the youth, rather sheepish-
ly. The lady on the other side Of the bar
laughed, and not having seen her reflection
for at least fifteen seconds, turned TO as
certain what difference time had made.
II should like to marry you. should, and
take you right away from here, so that you
never saw any of these people again.
Yes, and what would your people say?"
What do 1 care what my people would
say?" he demanded with courage. "Ex-
cepting," he added. excepting mother"
do you know how old am?" asked Miss
Searle thoughtfully.
Il know how old you look. he said.
That's another thing altogether she
remarked. You'd never believe it if told
you. Besides, I'm too fond of life to suit
you"
'I'n get fond of life too" said young
Wincham, desperately. I'll give up the
Polytechnic l go to now and go in for
music halls and theaters, if you only say
the word. I'll knock about like anything.
And get knocked about in your turn
said the young woman. sagely. Better by
half stay as you are. Not knowing when
they're we'll off is what ruins most people.
Two men entered the saloon bar, and the
young woman moved. Well you are stran-
gers!' she exclaimed with rafting enthu-
siasm. "Where've you been hiding, you
two? Been locked up, only dead?
s'pose that flower in your coats meant fol-
me?"
Young Robert Wincham groaned as he
listened to all this, and he took up a news
paper to cover his annoyance; the cricket
scores danced foolishly before his eyes and
what Surrey had done that day did not en-
ter into his knowledge. More people came
in, among them a young woman who had
once been a colleague of Miss Searle's and
he knew, on seeing their heads together
thrown to him. Wherefore, he put down
the evening paper, lifted his cap, and went
out through the swing doors. He strolleC
depressedly down the quiet road and turned
into Burnham terrace, where. at No. 10
| he found his mother waiting up for him.
Been smoking, Bobbie?" asked his moth.
| er. pleasantly BLESS my heart what Z
| man my boy is getting l never can make
| up my mind whether I'm glad or sorry tC
| see him growing UP like this. You'll soor
| be as old as your father was when l mar
ried him"
| Il suppose, mother. it's no use putting
| off marriage too late?'
"Gracious!" she said, preparing the sup
per. You don't want to think about it yet
| L was lucky, but it doesn't follow tina
| everybody else would be as fortunate. Be
s.des'-she touched his head lightly-"your,
the only one I've got left, Bobbie. Don
forget that. If you leave me 1 shall
shall be such lonely woman. And you're
only boy yet.
He smiled quietly. After supper he kissed
his mother and took his shorthand books
| upstairs TO his bedroom, where there wa
| table and easy chairs and other help
| TO al industrious mind; his mother some
/ times referred to it proudly as her sons
study. He opened his Pitman and sharp
ened a pencil; this done, he sat back will
| the knowledge that practice with dots an'
| curves was not for him that night; hi
mind was too fully occupied with dreams
dreams of a glorious future with Mis-
Searle at one end of the breakfast-tab l
| and himself at the other. a boy S first low
is pure, and young Wincham thought o
| nothing but the delight of being able L
| talk with her undisturbed by thirsty Gus
/
views on every question; of seeinl
her tall figure move about tn
| house; of ner gOod-by when he left for tn
| city at $40 in the morning, and her wei
come when he returned at $50 at night
/ True, he was only earning fS5 year, blu
| he remembered hearing an engaged clerl
| at office say that it easy to kee
| two as to keep one, and it seemed ridicu
| louS TO suppose for a moment that CIR
| with such eyes could fail to be an admira
BILE and an economical housekeeper YOUNG
| Wincham set his alarm for a quarter to {
and noticed that the hour was now close [
| half past u; it soothed him to think tina
| she was now about TO give up the hateful
duty of serving at the bar. This in itsel
| was relief Robert said his prayers an
| went TO bed.
In a few weeks time his mother bega1
| to wonder seriously why ii was that he
| boy had ceased to spend evening a
| home. Hitherto Friday had always bee
| a spare night, because on Friday he ha
| no Classes no debating society no gymna
| spent somewhere else She discussed tn
matter with her sister-in-law, a made
| lady whose knowledge of men was thee
| retical, but whose opinions in regard t
| them were definite, and this authority hav
| ing begged five minutes for privat
| thought, managed by some unprecedente
| sport of intelligence to imagine the truth
Your Robert" said the sister-in-law, de
| liberately, your Robert is in love- That
| what's the matter with him."
| The two ladies considered the subject Z
| all its bearings, so far was possible fror
| the rather meager information which the
| possessed. They spent quite a crowde
| hour in building up the young woman, some
| what in the manner of the late Professo
owen in dealing with extinct animals, an
| the sister-in-law left with the promise tina
she would straightway become a lady de
| tective in order to verify the impression
| they had arrived alto return the mex
| afternoon with tears and a description O
| Miss Searle.
| The agitated women sat, week later, i
| the front room of the house, rising now an
again to look nervously through the musli
curtains. The appointment was for
o'clock. and Il now twenty past; pei
haps Miss Searle did not propose to ava
herself of the invitation to call. A loud an
continued knocking at the door made theI