Middletown transcript., 1904-07-23

HiioiOi tuiiatcS ttsC1 iid0n gov ~
money nor no friends. and they'd have to
walk the streets all night if they didn't
get the sum Of lodging. tNow, boys" !"
he ended, turning to the men, sits either
cash or shanks' mare for tonight. .
Some Of the ''boys'' followed the
speaker with strained attention; others
cast furtise glances at the spectators; and
a few gazed on the grouh hd in the very
listlessness of despair. They pressed to-
gether for warmth. In the group of per-
haps fifty men there were scarcely dozen
overcoats. 1t was not new sight to
Brockton; he had often stopped there of
cold night and, without reasoning about
the evils OF careless charity, had given
money to the preacher, because the sight
Of the poor devils waiting for bed never
failed to move him. He knew how Eu-
nice was feeling, even before he turned
to her and saw tears in her eyes.
"Oh, let's get out of this" he said.
She threw him look of reproach for an
swer, adding: Unfortunately, left my
pockot-book at home." He knew that
she was silently condemning him for not
giving. He didn't blame her, but, Good
Heavens! it was hard to be placed in
that particularly false position before her,
of all people.
'That's too bad-I mean, It's jnst as
well," he replied confusedly.
fNow, boys" began the man on the
soapbox, ''sing; and sing all tdgether-it
| sounds better that way" Then few
hoarse voices rose from the shivering
group and took up the strain = ''0h,
where is my wandering boy tonight ?"
and the sight and sound OF it were some
thing beyond either laughter or tears.
Eunice turnedto Brockton. "Please lend
me five dollars" she said authoritatiyely.
| He looked at her in blank misery.
"You don't want all that?''
"It is such large sumg' she asked
with sarcasm.
Doggedly he drew out the two dollar
bill and the three ones and held them to-
ward her. There were just two nickels
left in bis pocket.
"Please give them to the preacher, "
she commanded; and when he had done
so she turned away, saying coldlY: #
think we will go to the the theater now"
At last fate had cornered him. His
sordid secret, it seemed, was even to be
denied the decent covering of silence.
Why hadn't he begged, borrowed, stolen
ANYTHING, he asked himself in sudden
frenzy, to have kept Eunice from know
ing? She would pity him. He would
stand before her in the same category
with those wretched creatures to whom
she had just given nights lodging. Per-
haps she would offer to lend him money.
He cast about vainly for subterfuge, and
at last fell back upon the bare fact. ave
can't go to the theater now."
"And why not?" khe asked. 1--WE
| shall only be 3 little little llate. u
"Oh, well, if you really want to < low,
I'll tell you," he said with short ID kigh.
"It's rather good joke, but somehow /
had depended upon keeping it to myself
| didn't want to share it with you. you
see. We can't go, because that five dol
lars was all l had in the world I'm dead
broke"
"All-you-had she faltered. "Ah-E"
and she drew deep breath.
"Yes-funny, isn'tit? Oh, told YOU
it was good ioke."'
"We will 60 back to the hotel then.'e
Her voice was calm and even. He needn't
have dreaded her impulsive pity-wbat
she felt for him was probably contempt
As they walked silently up the avenue
the singing followed them, fainter and
fainter, and he shaped to the dolefui air
words of his own. "Pve told her and
she doesn't eare-she despises me-" For
the first time the saying that woman wor-
ship success came home to him. Then,
of sudden. he saw himself with her
eyes-he felt how she would have scorned
him il she had known that he, the penni-
less duffer, had cherished night and day,
for seven years, the hope of marrying
her. Well, she didn't know--he had at
least kept that last shred of self-respect.
He wondered what she was thinking of,
there beside him, as she braced her back
against the wind that drove them swiftly
forward. She might have said something
she was usually ready enough to meet
and conquer difficult situation. Did she
after all, suspect? He felt that he could
never face her again. Even in the hotel,
after he had followed her to small up
stairs parlor and seated himself beside
her, on the sofa, lie didn't look at her,
lest her eyes should confirm his fear
'John-I think-I begin to under
stand" Was it really Eunice's voice?
He turned toward her, and as he met
her eyes great wonder took possession
OF him. In the sudden reyulsion OF feeE
ing he blurted out "My God, Eunice
Don't look at me like that, or you'll |
make me say something I'll be sorry for"
''Say it," she murmured. "1'ye been |
waiting so long,"
He drew away from her, frowning. "No;
| won't say it. Do you think I've held |
on to myself for seven wears. to let NV |
self go now, Of all times? Oh, but you
make it hard for fellow, though"
She leaned toward him, where he
shrank back in the corner Of the sofa.
'Then I'll say it. John Brockton, will |
you-marry me Q There-now perhaps
Pve humiliated myself enough to satisfy
your pride" and she gave,a little laugh
that was half sob.
He rose and lowered over her. Look
here, Eunice, do you think I'll marry