River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1907-01-24

AS Marcus Gilroy ran down the dark
staircase he trod on woman's gown
Obtaining no answer to his profuse ex-
pressions of apology he struck a
match and found that he was alone.
He continued his course down the
dirty, carpetless stairs, past two desc
Iate-looking landings, dimly lit by
sickly wall-lamps, and passed out into
the November fog.
He was glad it was foggy, for under
its kindly shelter he could better dis
pose of a parcel unobserved. It's des-
tination was the pawnshop. The
pawnshop in question nestled affec-
tionately up to a faring saloon.
Gilroy united his parcel and dis
closed dressing-case. The pawn
broker took out the articles one by
one and examined the hall-marks.
What do you want for it," he in
quired, with no show of interest.
twenty-five dollars" answered Gill
roy promptly.
The pawnbroker burst into harsh
laugh. Il will give you ten dollars" he
said
Gilroy took the ten dollars.
A misty rain was falling when he
found himself once more in the street.
He turned up his coat-collar, buried
his hands in his pockets and strobe
angrily along the slippery pavement,
past the fiaring shops, past third-rate
music hall-then into dismal street
and through a covered passage into
still more dismal square which was
the young mans present abode.
Gilroy mounted the endless stairs
two at time, not stopping till he
gained his own door. Once inside, he
lit his lamp and turned eyes of dis
gust on his wretched apartment. His
bed, all unmade, stood in one corner
under a window An oil-stove standing
in the fireplace was still ornamented
with frying-pan in which he had pre-
pared his breakfast. The remains of
a meal Uttered table.
A church clock struck the hour of
nine Gilroy compared his watch, and
then hurriedly cleared his table OF
crockery and eatables-then he opened
a bag of MINIS. and emptied it on to
the table, got his ink, pens, and blot
ter from the dressing table, and sat
down to write mechanically filling
pipe as he did so. He had scarcely put
pen to paper when a curious rasping
sound fell on his ear. 1t seemed to
come from the next room. 1t kept on
so long that it irritated him, and he
rose and opened his door and peeped
out
stream Of light shot across the
passage, and on the opposite wall was
the shadow of a slim girl doing some
thing to a door. 1t suddenly struck
him that it might be the girl on whose
dress he had trodden, and, he believed,
torn it, He was impulsive by nature,
so he stepped out into the passage
and looked full at the shadows sub
stance. 1t was a red-haired girl in a
grey, close-fitting gown, and she was
trying to do something to the lock
with a screwdriver. On another i'm
pulse he addressed her.
Us you lock wrong?" he inquired.
LET me help you"
The girl darted a frightened glance
at him; then, seeming Satisfaction
Marcus Gilroy had a boyish, frank
face-she said. THANK you-there is
something wrong-it won't catch!"
A moment more and the young man
was kneeling at the door, examining
the lock, while the girl held the can
die.
What a pleasant room you have!"
Gilroy said, when he had fixed the
lock
Yes" said the girl, "but its com
fort sometimes makes me wretched.
For oh; there are some terribly poor
people in this place. 1t turns me sick
sometimes to look into the rooms OPP
posite Yet l look when l can't sleep
Il see poor wretches creeping up the
stairs, to huddle into horrible rooms
to pass the night. They come at all
hours Of the night-little children,
too-poor little children! There is a
window at every lanGSng. and as the
weary wretches creep up, up, meagre
light shines moment from these win
odws: and the rooms-there are no
blinds"
The girl ceased suddenly, a consci-
Gus blush overspreading her fair, oval
face. She remembered that she was
talking to a man-and a stranger.
Gilroy found no words-he looked at
the pure young face with that impas-
stoned light of sorrow and sympathy
upon it and was as one dumb.
Another of his impulses came to
him. "You have a typewriter" he
said tentatively.
Yes, l earn my living by it."
will you type play for me which
/ have written?"
Why certainly"
He was once more at work on the
lock.
Thank you. l will bring it to-mor-
row. Poor play! I suppose it will be
rejected, like all the rest
DO you depend on your pen?"
He looked up and laughed bitterly.
81 have never earned penny in my