Bridgeton pioneer., 1908-07-09
gram embroidered in the corner of a

| rlSk. ACCOTuIuSly ue lHSCJlUeu III
rhymes ITO S. NJ" and that he nigh
not be accused of unfairness signe,
his own initials. He then fastened tn
Jingle with clothespin to the top O
a lace collar. The monogram hand
kerchief he appropriated.
Later in the afternoon a shower de
veloped unexpectedly, and Sylvi;
rushed up to the roof. There was nj
stopping between drops to read non
sense rhymes, so she gathered them II
with her washing and hurried down
stairs.
| "Sillier," was her only commen,
when she read them in the privacy oi
her room. Then, the loss of her hand
kerchief dawning suddenly upon her
she pronounced 'P. L." not only g
bold, bad poet, but a sneak thief, and
for days stunned the roof religiously
Finally, however, curiosity got the
better of her, and she ventured to &c
up just once more and see what would
happen. The prospect wasn't promis-
ing. The only person in sight was a
trained nurse hanging out blankets.
81 hope no one is very ill.," remarked
Sylvia.
"Well, he's pretty SICK" replied the
nurse. He took cold staying up here
on the roof too long after getting over
the grip. We're fearful of pneumonia
| Sylvia's heart thumped violently.
"Tm so sorry" she said sympathetic.
| ally. SIS he delirious?"
| The nurse looked at her curiously.
| mo, not exactly. He talks In his sleep
| sometimes. Are you a friend Of Mr..
| Laurison'sT'
| IL know him slightly" stammered
| Sylvia. Then, after a moment, she
added timidly, .Is Mr.. Laurison con-
sciousT'
"Oh, yes; he's conscious"
"Then please give him this" begged
Sylvia, extracting little crumpled pa
per from a mysterious hiding place.
Don't let him read it till he's better.
He'll know who sent it" Then Sylvia
made one of her Enthusiastically dra-
matte exits.
The days that followed stretched sol
emnly on into weeks. Occasionally Syl-
via inquired of the elevator boy how
Mr.. Laurison was getting on. 1t SEEM
ed an eternity before his lugubrious
! about the same, miss" changed to
the cheerful They say he's much bet
ter, miss
No more eounselings now with Dame
Grundy as to the propriety Of trips to
the roof Sylvia went every day-twice
a day. She knew that some time she
would find him there. When at length
she did she almost ran to him for joy,
but remembered suddenly that they
had met only once before. So she call
ed to him from the distance.
"How do you do, Mr.. LaurisonT
Paul started up in his steamer chair
and gazed at her in glad surprise.
"Why, how do you do again?" he
called cheerily. Won't you come over
and shake hands?'
Sylvia came toward him quickly and
extended her little white hand.
st suppose this is Miss S. R. have
the pleasure of greeting" said Paul,
with cordial informality.
"Yes-Sylvia Randall" she answered.
81 like the queens name," Paul COM
mented. "and wish 1 could ask her to
stay awhile, but have no throne to
offer her"
Without further ceremony Sylvia sat
down on the roof and declared herself
comfortable
81 want to thank you, Miss Sylvia"
began Paul slowly, ''for your message
while l was ILL., 1t did me world Of
good"
Sylvia looked up at him to see if he
was making fun of her, but Paul lay
back against the cushions his eyes ap-
parently closed. From beneath those
closed lids, however, he was reveling
in the glory of Sylvia's hair and in the
color that came and went in her
cheeks.
II wrote it." explained Sylvia hum
bly,, before knew you were i'll and
before 1 found out that you are real
author"
"And how did you discover that?" in
| quired Paul.
in a magazine" answered Sylvia
tclScly ~ WoC q 6OOA Se~AS NA~--
better than your rhymes"
"Well, you see, writing poetry isn't
exactly in my line" said Paul. laugh
ing. "I never did it till I met you.
But l like it just the same. My two
| favorite lines are these:
"P. L was a poet; P. L. was thief:
| P. L. came to my house and stole hand.
kerchief."
Sylvia hung her head, whether from
modesty or amusement Paul couldn't
| tell.
"The paper they were written OF
was suspiciously watermarked," he OBJ
served. "You didn't really cry, die
your
Train vets things" answered Sylvia
laconically. Besides, what good woul(
1t have done to cry? You had my
handkerchief"
After this auspicious beginning th'
chimney postoffice was wonderful.
busy institution, and the old roof wok'
L mn oil Of n c,,ddnp f0 itS MANY roman