The San Francisco call., 1904-07-17

of him.
1t may have been that I was chuck
ling to myself at the thought of Nancy
Olden with a dressinS-rOOm all to her
self. 1 can't ever quite get used to that,
you know, though 1 sail around there
with all the airs of a leading lady.
Sometimes 1 see d twinkle in Fred
Obermuller's eye when 1 catch him
watching me, and goodness knows he's
been glum enough of late, but it
wasn't
Yes. I'm going to tell you. butts
ratified me a bit, Maggie. I'm $3.50
sorry. and n little-oh, just a little. lit
tie bit glad.
I'D slammed the door behind me-the
old place is out of repair and the door
won't shut except with a bang and L
had just squatted down on the floor
to unbutton my high schoes, when
noticed the chintz curtains in front of
the high dressingbox waver. They
must have moved just like that when
= was behind them months-it seems
years-ago. But, you see. Topham had
never served an apprenticeship behind
curtains. so he didn't suspect.
'Lordy. Nancy" laughed to myself,
"some one thinks you've got a rose
diamond and
And at that moment he parted the
curtains and came out.
Yes-Tom-Tom DOrgan.
My heart came beating up to my
throat and then, just as I thought 1
should choke, it slid down to my boots,
sickening me. I didn't say a word. I
sat there, my foot in my lap, staring at
him.
Oh. Maggie girl. it isn't good to get
your first glimpse after all these
months of the man you love crOuched
like big bull in a small space, pOking
his close cropped black head out like
a turtle that's not sure something
won't be thrown at it. and then drag
ging his big hulk out and standing
over YOU He used to be trim-TOm-
and taut, but in those shapeless things,
the old trousers, the dirty white shirt,
and the vest too big for him
t'Wen," he said, why don't you say
something?"
Toms voice-Mag, do you remember,
the merry Irish boys voice. with its
chuckles like a brook gurgling as it
runs?
No-'tisn't the same voice. lists
changed, Maggie. It's heavy and-and
oarse-and-brutal That's what it is.
1t sounds like-like the knout, like
"Nance-what in helTs-"
Il think I'm frightened. Tom"
"Oh, the Iadyfied airs of her. Amt
you going to faint, Miss Olden?"
I got up.
Mono. Sit down. Tom. Tell me
about it, How-how did you get here?"
He went to the door, opened it a bit
and looked out cautiously. Mag-Mag
it hurt me-that. Why, do you sup
pose?
You're sure nobodyll come in?" he
asked.
turned the key in the lock. forget
ting that it didn't really lock.
"Oh. yes. I'm sure" 1 said. 'Why?"
why! You have got slow. Just be-
cause didn't say good-by to them fell
lows up at the Pen, and"
"Oh! You've escaped"
THAT'S what First jail-break in
fifteen years. What dye think of your
Tommy, old girl. Ell? Amt he the
gamest? Amt you proud Of him?"
NV God, Magl Proud OF him. He
didn't know-he couldn't see-himself-
He, shut in like a wild beast, couldn't
see what this year has done for him.
Oh, the change-the change in him. My
boy Tommy. with the gay. gallus man
.ner, and the pretty, jolly brogue, and
the laughing mouth under his brown
mustache. And this man-his face is
old. Mag, old-oh,-and hard-and-
tough, cheap and tough. There's some
thing in his eyes now and about his
IA fpf
Look here, Nance" He caught me
by the shoulders, knocking up my chin
so that he could look down squarely at
me. What's your graft? What's it to
be between us? What've ye been doing
all this time? Out with it! want to
know"
/ shook myself free and faced him.
1--WE been-Tom Dorgan, I've been
to hear the greatest actors and art
resses in the world say and do the
finest things in the world. I've watched
Princesses and Kings-even if they're
only stage ones. I've read new book
every night-a great picture book, in
which the pictures move and speak
that's the stage, Tom Dorgan- Much OF
il wasn't true, but a girl who's been
brought up by the Cruelty doesn't have
to be told what's true and what's false.
I've met these people and lived with
them-as one does who thinks the same
thoughts and feels what others feel
1 know the world now, Tom Dorgan,
the real world of men and women
not the little world of crooks, nor yet
the littler one of fairy stories. I've got
a glimpse. too, of that other world
where all the scheming and lying and
cheating is changed as il by magic into
something that deceives all right, but
doesn't hurt. It's the world Of art and
artists, Tom Dorgan, where people
paint their lies, or write them, or act
them; where they lift money all right
from mems pockets. but lift their souls
and their lives. too, away from the
things that trouble and bore and-and
degrade.
"You needn't sneer; it's made a diff
ferent Nance out Of me, Tom Dorgan.
And, oh. but I'm sorry for the pert
little beggar we both knew that lied