Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-03-24
overnight I walked from Goth street down

| to 14th, at about / in the morning. taking
| in few side streets on the way. / didn't
block. and every light was out in nineteen
houses out Of twenty. Down along part Of
4 Broadway 1 saw a few tired, frowsy-look-
| ing folks in big restaurants. and few
DRINKS and a girl or two, and some half a
| dozen cabs providing about. That was gay
| New York by night. Hilarious and reeskay
| attractions furnished by typical New York
| ers! Whenever hear that chestnut about
| typical New Workers. think of old Badly
| During up in Campgaw, who was sixty
years old when he went to his first circus.
He stood half an hour in front Of the
| dromedary's stall, taking in all its queer
| bumps and funny curves. and then he looks
1 around. kind OF defiant at the crowd and
yells out: Hell! There amt no such ami
| malr"
! polite smile from the dry lips, which
| Gerald of late was forever moistening, was
| the only reply to this harangue. Caleb
| gave up trying to draw the youth into an
argument and adopted more business
| like tone.
| Il want you should run down to Ballston
| for me soon's you've voted tomorrow,
| Jerry. Better take the us train. 1 want
you TO go to the Office of the Ballston Her
aid. and give a note from me to Bruce La
| nfer one of the editors. He'll hand you a
package. Nothing that amounts to much.
but I've paid big price for it. so l don't
bring 1t back on the o'clock train. Get all
| the sleep you tonight. You're liable to
| have a wakeful day
IAN right"
1.-The package Lanier's to give you is just
| a bunch of letters about a railroad deal.
| Nothing you'd understand. They're to be
ready for me any time after noon tomor-
| row."
Il thought you wanted me to work at
| the polls for you
| Anybody that knows how to lie can work
| at the polls. There's nobody but you 1 can
send for those letters. All the other men
| Pa trt1St noy,'t he
| Bruce Lanier,' repeated Gerald idly.
Amy relation to Miss"
| only a relation by marriage. He's her
| brother
| Nice sort of girl, always seemed to me.
Whatd she leave you for?'
| She left of her own accord"
| so you told me. But why?"
Because she got crazy idea that I
| was the original objectionable Sinner. And
| having made up her mind to it, she match
| er'lly didn't want her opinions shaken by
| any remarks for the defense. So she left"
Gerald did not pursue the subject. He
| seldom, indeed, dwelt so long, nowadays, on
| any one theme of talk He mostened his
| dry. lips once more, sucked at his cigarette
and slouched along In silence. His father
| asked several questions that bore the
impending election, and was answered in
monosyllables The cigarette burned down
| to it's cork tip, and Gerald lighted another
| at its smouldering stump.
Have a cigar?" suggested Caleb, view
| ing this operation with manifest disgust.
mo, thanks"
Its better'n one Of those measly connect
ing links between fire and a fool" grunted
| Caleb. Gerald pulled on without answering
Il said" repeated Caleb, a little louder,
the rankest Flor de Garbage campaign
cigar, with red-and-yaller surcinge
around it's waist, is blamed sight better'n
any Cairo, H., Egyptian cigr Is there
five minutes day when you're not smoking
one?'
NO"
much as that. 'spesh'ly a man with boys
size chest like yours. Stunts the growth,
too, hear, and
1--WE got my growth"
"You sure have" agreed Caleb, looking
up and down his sons weedy length, land
you'd "a had still more If so much Of you
hadn't been turned up for feet Well, smoke
away and drink away, too, If you like. I'm
not responsible for you. Only you'll smash
up or turn queer one of-these days If you
don't look out. Is it the booze or the near
tobacco that makes your lips all dry like
that? Neither of 'em usually has that eff
feet. Your hands are wet and cold all the
time, too Better see doctor. hadn't your"
"Oh. I'm all right" said the lad YEARLY.
Caleb looked in doubt at his listless COM
panion, seemed inclined to say more on the
subject, then changed his mind.
BE ready for the 7:l5 tomorrow morn
ing" he ordered as they mounted the broad
| marble steps of the Mausoeum. Turn in
early and get a good rest. Lord. 1 hope
| this drizzle will turn into rain before morn
| ing. Nothing like rainy election day to
| drown reform. The honest heller would
| turn out in blizzard to earn his 81 by vot-
| ing, but sprinkle will scare silk socker
| from the polls eastern a"
The great door was swung open. Outlined
against the lighted hall behind 1t was Mrs.
Conover She had seen their approach and
had FASTENED out into the veranda to meet
| them.
is like old times Must be twenty years
since you came out to"
"Oh. Caleb!'' sobbed the little woman,
and as the light for the first time fell
athwart her face, they saw she was red
eyed and blotched of cheek from much
weeping. "Oh, Caleb how long you've been!
I telephoned the Democratic Club an hour
ago, and they said you'd just"
whats the row." broke in her bewl-
dered husband. Afraid I'd been ate by
your big nephew, Or
Don't, don't joke! Something dreadfurs
happened. L"
''Then come into the library and tell us
about it quiet" interrupted Caleb, unless
maybe you're aiming to call in the servants
The footman behind Mrs Conover. at the
door, tried to look though he had heard
nothing, and bitterly regretted he had not
been allowed to hear more. But Lefty was
silenced as she always was when the rail-
roader adopted his present tone. She ODE
diently scuttled down the hall toward the IL
brary, an open letter fiuttering in her hand.
Caleb followed; and. at a word from his
father, Gerald accompanied his parents.
AS soon as the library door closed behind
the trio. Mrs. Conover's grief again rose
from subdued shifting to unchecked tears.
"Oh, talk out, can't your growled Con-
over. whats up? That letter there?
Is-?"
YES" gurgled poor Lefty. torn between
the luxury of weeping and the fear of Of
Tending Caleb, "its-it's from Blanche at
Lake Como, and-and- Oh she isn't mar
ried at all-and-!'
"WHAT?" roared Conover. Even Gerald
dropped his cigarette
"its-it's true. Caleb"' walled Lefty.
"She isn't. And"
What are you blthering about? Here!"
Conover snatched the letter glanced
over 1t. Then with q snort he thrust 1t
back into his wifes hand.
French he shifted, in whitening con-
tempt. why in hell can't the girl write her
own language, SO folks can understand
what shes-?'
She's always written her letters to me in
French ever since she was at school In
Passy. They told her tt
Never mind what they told her What's
the letter say? Amt married? WHY
"She was married. But she isn't And
You talk like man in a cave. Is
d'Antri dead, or"
Her husbands frenzed Impotence. as
usual. served to drive the cowed little rab-