The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-01-09

v "pallid Child' was about. So, when she
 learned to iutter down regularly from her little at the top of "The
 Morgue," to the suite Second Floor Right Front. there to cheer the Crippled Hero with the daintiness of her presence and the tnkle of her chatter the 'Muck-Raker' took discreet delight in the situation.
 taking delight in situations. Also habit of nick naming people and things which Is what ails the first paragraph of this very faithful recital of very real events.
 It was he who had given .'The Pallid Child" her name. She was the "Pallid Child' because. be- meath her very black and marceled hair, she had wistful little face which was very white and which was in piquant contrast to the futter1ng vivacty or her movements nov ana because, perhaps StI,s ahs her, maybe. not quite as much of child as she seemed. which they lived tor had rooms, not to exaggerate) It was "The Morgue'' because 1t was all marble The joke about this leach of the Muek-Raker,s s. the marble was not marble.
 The Crippled Hero" was the Crippled Hero'' because he not hero. When first the Muck Raker had met him, and pity1ng his Loneliness had invited him to share his suite he had been on the trail of "story." The elevator boy mysteriously had tipped, him about an army captain ruined for life by shot through both hips on the charge up San Juan Hill. few questions had a spoiled @ the the crippled, not at the battle of San Juan Hill, but merely in the battle of life cadet at West Point. dacult horseback feat at monkey drill he had been dashed against wall.
 We'll, anyway when the Pallid Child began to visit the Crippled Hero the Muck-Raker was de- lighted
 Pallid Child sat upon the couch. her little shoes (with big bows) drawn up; and puned daintily at 1oh, how she did talk, that PaIid Chiid) in con tinuous chirping, warbling stream, with little side movements of h. head like birds.
 And the Crippled Hero. erect in his wheeled chair. gazed at her. in half-amused half-approV- ing manner. as one looks at child playing. or at ru1no fvoa aor1 uyofn firn0c h6 nd deep bass laugh; there came into his eyes grav- ity which was almost concern.
 After while change would come in the per formance of the Muck-Raker in the inner parlor. The typewriter would stop with clang. he would gather the written sheets lying loose about the table and. humping them into compact whole. would place them in the drawer above his knees. then, putting a clean white legal-size upon the cylinder of the machine. he would sit there listen inE his hands inert upon the keys, listening to the words fitting in. winged. through the curtains separating the two parlors
 ,'click-aty-bang" 1t went on with growing assur- ciick-atic-a bang; b-r-r-r-bang bang"
 And rising presently, the Muck-Raker would go into his bedroom at the rear of the apartment and there. all by himself: would read the page whisked oil the cylinder. and there. all by himself, would laugh his fool head off,
 What he read was something like this:
 Do you swim? I'd just love to. always want ed to swim. But my feet won't stay up. tried at Atlantic City last year. Frank Halton teach
 
 He's awfully sweet But my feet wouldn't stay up; they just wouldn't. My sister Eva, she swim nae can sb o M pa ah the n no% Doesn't smoke. Nope. Couldn't get her to. She plays for me often. On the Pianola. I'm passion of course-I don't like ragtime and such cheap things But I'm passi9ately n fond sa. Of good play play The Sash Sash Dance, too, with all all the variations. Eight sharps, flats, forget which, Av in ha in as1,a me some every week We're engaged. Oh. yes; most We'll. that candy is awfully rich Once ate some and it made me i'll: it's rich. My sister know her: She's awfully pretty-oh. much pret- tier than am. Nope, she doesn't dance. show girl. Ons as sSa No short Some of the girls. too
 The Muck-Raker, a-tiptoe, returned to his type writer again he listened d to the he oaing a and clicked and whirred beneath his enthusiastic fingers. No. Frank Halton, that's his name. You saw his picture the other day. Yes, in the locket. Oh, get sometimes. You must have heard of his father. Down in Washington. big banker Frank works in the bank He hates it, too poor boy boy sixteen people. think. Mother thinks he's great. She's just in love with him. mother. Funny thing happened once. He was in Florida. and he wrote to me and invited me to come down. I.wrote back would go down with mother. And he never said another word about it. Wasn't that funny? Won- der if he didn't want mother to come. This sum he's going his fathers ranch. in Texas. He has lots of horses Mamma wants me to go. l just love horses, don't ypu?"
 He was having beautiful time, this Muck-Rak- CT, and useful time, too. For this Muck-Raker didn't mean to be Muck-Raker all his 1ife He had dreams. He dreamed sometimes of writing Novel. And very slyly, all of the time, he gathering Material. Human material, which he labeled Documents No. 1, II. and III
 Anyway, as has been already set forth, the Muck-Raker delighted with the situation.
 But when, after 8 seven weeks tour along the watersheds of the United States Git had been dis covered that with their incorrigible prodigality the American people were drinking up all the wa ter of the United States and calculated that at the present rate in period of one thousand six hun dred and thirty-ve years and three months the in- land navy of the United States would have to be sailing on another beverage, or not at alb, the Muck-Kaker returning gladsome1y to the Morgue tha ChiId 1aerched he rin