The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1906-07-26

The bartender peered timidly out
of the door, like a bather confront
ing maximum OF spine-chiSng sea
with a minimum of clothing and cour-
age. ugh" she shivered. Cold,
amt it?'
There's a knife in the air, there
is" replied the policeman, who had
been praying for hours for that door
to open.
Inside there was fresh sawdust on
the floor, the urn was steaning, and
there was a smell Of not whisky. 1t
was the atmosphere of luxury 10 the
stragglers who wandered in.
A woman was among the little
crowd, though not of them. Some
trace of better days, of gentility, di.-
ferentiated ner. But she was falling
into the lowest pit This was the first
time she had ever entered a saloon
and called for drink.
It was gin she ordered-a large gin
and she gulped it down not. When
she emerged into the street her wealth
amounted to a nickel and cent. She
had that cent a long time, for she
had kept it for luck. An5 when the
nickel was spent she would still have
the penny and the same luck.
The previous day her landlord mad
sued her for arrears in rent. She
had gone to the court and told ner
story.
They gave her a quarter and said
something aobut maing inquiries. She
did not know what they meant; but
she knew that she had twenty-five
cents and that she was hungry. She
was always hungry, but she had not
always a quarter She went straight
way and spent fifteen cents in one
fell swoop in one riotous Lucullan Or
gy. What feast it was!
After it she crawled back, stated,
to her garret, cast her sewing aside,
and slept. She awoke n the early
morning, shivering, and recourse to
lquor-something fiery and potent
suggested itself. Now she was going
again to her garret, without warmth
of the alcohol in her veins.
Was she still dreaming when there
came a knock at the door and
beautiful woman in rustling gown
stepped anxiously toward her bed?
"You are Mrs. ALERT Forshaw?'
she said, touching her on the shoul-
der. "How you frightened me, lying
there so still"
The woman rose from the bed. No;
1t was not dream.
81 read of your case in the papers,,
the visitor went on, "and, oh, how
glad am to be able to help you. In
this envelope are two s5 notes, and
here is some loose silver. This is
letter to a dressmaker who will give
you work. No; don't thank me. Mine
is the blessing to be able to help-to
give. How easily might fate have or
dained that you should be in my place
and me in yours. Then you would
have done something to help me,
wouldn't your"
She laughed brightly, with tears
glitsening in her eyes. 1t was good
to look upon her.
Goodbye! I shall hear how you
get on through my dressmaker."
The room seemed to go suddenly
dark. She was gene. The rumble Of
carriage wheels came up from the
street below.
1t was early morning at sea, and
sunbeam and breeze waged a friendly
contest as to which could be the
pleasanter. Gilbert Rhode Jeans, a
tall, alert figure in white ducks, stood
on the deck of the great liner. taking
dose, as he said, of the tonic OF
the scene.
''I'll give the prize to the breeze"
he remarked to the woman who lean
ed gently on his arm.
He gazed at her with proud admira-
tion.
You are really happy, Beatrice?"
Really, really"
In the bright morning light it was
easy to guess their ages. Hers you
would have fixed at twenty-five, his
at forty-two. They had been married
a week, and were on their honeymoon
trip to America. He was a British
millionaire.
In the glow of not afternoon sun
the same day they lounged on deck
chairs. He was reading from a note
book.
And all these are your retainers?'
he asked.
yes"
"Who is Marcelle Bruniere? Quit.
q romantic name
She is a milliner who would have
died but for fortunate accident. Sb<
was wrongly arrested for theft, 2n:
her whole story came out.
"Surely it was wrcngly?"