Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-10-10


sat swinging her legs from the shelf OF
the hall mirror
lis IL from herr Maggie asked
David shook his head and read tie let
ter again from the beginning TO the end.
who them" she asked.
But David only nodded his head and
stuck the letter in his pocket
You know we're engaged. now. Davy."
she said. putting her hand on hts arm.
and We shouldn't have any secrets.
should we? You'll make me right un-
happy IL you don't let me see that letter"
1T would make you very unhappy II
you did. he said. 1t isn't from a girl,
promise YOU"
They went to their rooms, but Maggie
did not forget the letter that David would
not let her see. She thought OF IL at din
ner. and she thought OF II as she was
dressing to go on the stage. and even
when she was before the audience she
could not forget 1t or the expression OF
David's face as he had read and reread
the letter that afternoon in Mrs. Gar
rison's hallway. That night he came TO
fetch her home from the theater after
her performance. and he was apparently
In the best of spirits. but Maggie only
chung to his arm and refused to smile
even at his brightest sayings-the I'M
read letter was still before he.
IT was well past midnight when Maggie
decided that she could no longer endure
the uncertainty OF the contents OF the an
foreseen barrier which had suddenly
arisen in the path OF their extreme hap
piness. There was nothing that any one
could possibly say In writing. at least SO
Maggie argued with herself. that could
possibly be so unbearable as this uncer-
tainty. And SO she got out of her bed
and put on wrapper and her slippers
and lightly tip-toed down the narrow
81 fwc 1-t,- <>l,a
Then she held her breath and listened to
the long. even breathing OF the sleeping
man inside. Cautiously she opened the
door and CROPPED her way about the dark
David hung his coat. She found the let
ter In the inside pocket. Just where he
had placed II. Then she returned to her
room and locked the door behind her.
threw on her wrapper. turned the gas
full on. and with her hands trembling.
tore the letter out of its envelope.
1t read:
MY Dear David: I always believed
that you were your fathers own SON
when you told us about your life in the
livery stable and the circus I was sure OF
1t. But now that you have shown the
kind OF stun you are made OF 1 see no
reason why you should return to your
former position. Had your father lived I
believe he would have been pleased to
have had you with me. and I hope you
will be. I have made place for you at
the Office. and you will be given every
opportunity to advance yourself, We are
you perhaps had best dine with Alice and
myself tomorrow Sunday and talk IL
over. and even drink a toast to the new
financier. Sincerely yours.
WALTER ALLWARD."
-
Maggie read the letter several times
and then tossed it on her dressing table.
She threw herself on the bed and for a
long time lay on her back and stared
wide-eyed at the yellow gas flame above
her. It was dawn when the girl, cold and
aching In every muscle. got up from the
bed and began mechanically to throw
few necessary clothes into dress suit
case. This task completed she dressed
herself and then looked about for the pa
per and pen necessary to write the letter
she had already composed many times
But, finding neither she took a stub of a
pencil and scrubbed few words on the
back of David's letter. This is what Mag
gle wrote:
Dear Friend Davy: am leaving on
the early morning train for Buffalo TO-
day instead of tomorrow, so I will not see
you again. 1 couldn't stand not seeing
your letter. so 1 stole it after you were
asleep. Do you remember a tintype We
had taken together on the road? Mine
got cracked. SO wish you would send
II to me at Buffalo. Shea's Music Hall. or
Iroquois Hotel. / know the Iroquois Is
pretty rich Tor a slack-wire performer.
but I'm going to drink TO your success In
the new job tonight myself and I want to
do 1T right"
There were several other things Maggie
would like to have said, but the lead of
the pencil had worn down so that IL was
quite useless, and there was no penknife
at hand. She put the letter back in its
envelope, and carrying It I'm one hand and
her suit case in the other. she descended
the stairs until she had reached the land
ing at Davids door. From his breathing
she knew that he was still sleeping
soundly, and SO she pushed the letter I'M
der the door and passed down through
the dark hallway and out OF the front
door into 42d street. 1t was barely day
light; and the street lamps were still
shining DULY through a driZzling rain.
but Maggie did not seem to notice this.
She crossed the pavement and resting
her valise stood for some moments look
ing up at the gloomy front OF the board
ing house.
or course she would come back to II
next winter. after the circus had closed.
perhaps before then. Yet. as she looked
up at the brown-stone house with the
drawn blinds that morning she knew that
the place would never be quite the same
to her again. And then a milk cart rat
tied by over the rough cobble-stones and
Maggie suddenly realized where she was.
and so she brushed the sleeve OF her coat
across her eyes and. picking up the va
lise, started out again on her way to the
railway station.