The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1904-12-16
Silver as Dust
, ~ is.r b@,~ 81.
=. II. LAlscASTE1
Copyright, isoa, BY Daily Story Pub. OIL

. Copyright, I'M, By Daily Story Pub. oo.l
r HE woman who had elected to live
alone was not apt to remember that
she was alone, except when her eyes
hurt her and she could neither read nor
write Even then she was given to lying
on the lounge by the window, looking up
at the stars and dreaming endless
dreams Of the work she was to do. Lone
ly? There was stubborn strain in her
that forbade the admission.
But tonight it was stormy and no
stars; she was forced to fall back upon
the fire for companionship. Alas, glow
ing coal color only aggravates aching
eyes and physical pain will ever anect
ones mental moods! All, well. the up
shot was thAt the lonely woman shielded
her quivering eyes with her strong,
willing hand and fell to rejecting that
this was Christmas eve.
my stars, the tired mammas and
broke papas in this wide world to-
night" In sharp contrast to the quiet
of her study she seemed to hear the
shrill chorusing of many childish voices
Still she persisted:
Funny that sane people will 60 de-
liberately into that sort Of thing. I'm
glad I elected to not live my life along
matrimonial lines. Aye, Lord, there was
a time when the unmarried woman had
not where to lay her head, but that time
is past. l wonder if it is really we'll for
the world. Oh, Independence, thy
heights are strong and clean albeit the
winds do blow bit bleak there.
She got up and walked slowly around
the room, touching the backs Of her
books with tender fingers.
"You are, a pretty good substitute for
curly heads. cher amis, and you never
have COLES and tempers." But, yes; the
lonely woman had plenty of pluck!
Presently, though, she was lounging
again before the fire.
'T'm a selfish beast-that is the short
Of It. Even these checks are being sent
as the price Of peace, not as promoters
of pleasure. Perfectly willing to heap
up silver as dust If only I may be left
alone Aye. Lord; dare say silver
heaped up in that spirit is worth about
as much as dust. Don't suppose they
get any more pleasure out of the receiv-
ing than I do out of the giving. Sort or
perfunctory affair all around. Mais,
quel voulex vous? My whole life is per-
functory. I haven't done spontane-
GUS thing since" She stopped there
and the dull red fire ran into her face. 1t
seemed incrediable now, In the self-as-
sured serenity of IS, that her high head
should ever have been bowed in broken
hearted sobbing upon the breast ola
convict.
"Well, I suppose every woman plays
the fool at least once in her life. Still,
deliver me from any more spontaniety!
An it please you, prefer the perfume
tory. Heaping up silver as silver is too
great strain upon one's-self-respect?
Or shall we say, soul-f1ber. Exploiting
emotions may be thrilling, but emotion
in itself is unsettling. And yet" She
threw aside the reverie and took up the
letters on the tray. Neat envelopes con-
tanning neat notes enclosing neat
checks. Not blur or blunder. Her
stationery and typewriting was one Of
her neat little prides. And they would
be mailed tomorrow. The recipients
would cash the checks, spend the money
and write her each stiff little note
M hov o<0
present 'Silver as dust, aye, Lord!"
She looked them over with aching eyes
and dropped them slowly into the re-
ceiver. 'Now. suppose if were to 60
scotching around in this storm and put
that money into clocks and shepperd-
desses and tin horns and raglands, it
would be very much more appreciated
silver heaped up as sMver-though the
chances are that they don tneed a single
one of those things. Funny sort of some
thing-the human heart. Can't feel
alive unless it is making an exhibition
of its poor self"
Then came one Of those pauses all
brain workers must take account of.
When volition passes abruptly into a
state OF suspended animation and the
mind like an unfettered wild thing
shapes the shadowy impossible swiftly
into the clear-cut imperative. 1t is the
hand of the Maker. At it's touch the
woman grew meek. Volition resumed
its sway. only to take up the new line of
thought:
Suppose I were to do it. I can't
work." And there came to her vision
of happy homes and holly and red light
and laughter. She was sufficiently sure
of a welcome. At least, they always
seemed glad to see her at either Ned or
Dicks And it was only seven. "Time
enough, goodness knows!" Her glance
went linger1ngly around her own four
walls. Companionship is one thing;
crowd is another. AYE, Lord. If they
didn't all talk at once" And she sighed
as she began to pull of her office coat.