The Spokane press. [volume] (Spokane, Wash.) 1902-1939, 1909-03-10
DAILY SHORT
STORY
THIS BUSINESS OF LIFE.

4
four years of the garnering of wis
dom just come to an end at Vas
sar. The moonbeams gave her hair
the CLINT Of sparkling gold, and she
had knack of assuming graceful
goddess-like attitudes in the small
rowboat on the little lake. He was
fresh from his technical school and
very serious with his set purpose
in life of condemning ill-lit, illven-
tilated tenements In the work of a
sanitary engineer. He was dark
haired, dark-eyed, well-knit and
stern as Jupiter Olympus. They
were both somewhere near %.
The discussion had been solemn
enough for graybeard pedants. II
will write my name with Clara
Barton and Florence Nightingale,
Robert" vowed the girl. "If it
were not for that" She allowed
the delicious alternative to find ex-
preston in a moving sigh.
"And I. Editha," announced the
young man. will preserve the lives
of children hitherto doomed to dis
ease and death for lack of Gods
light and air. If 1t were not for
that" He allowed his delicious
alternative to find expression in a
glance at the girl that put a tinge
Of pink into her cheeks.
They sighed in unison, so embar-
rassingly obvious. that the man
dived into the bottom of the boat
for a mandolin and the girl turned
and looked at the moon. The man
struck up an old Spanish air, and
the girl, in voice of pur charm,
sang a ballad of dark-eyed Anda-
lusian maiden waiting and whisper
ing blind tn grating Of old Cadiz
for the man with the lutte and the
sash. AS the little boat grated upon
the sands, the don and the maid
were kissing through the bars and
things like sanitary engineering
and settlement work seemed to
have gone fro mthe world to make
way for moonbeams and sentiment.
They said no word al the way up
the winding path to the summer
hotel. And then it was only Good
night"
The dingiest death trap that Rob-
ert Boyle discovered that winter
was the West Side barracks AS he
clattered down the rickety stairs
with the agent, he scolded severely
and threatened with the strong
arm of the law. At the foot of the
steps, glimpse through an open
doorway had him bounding I'M
thinkingly through it. In the little,
bare room were Miss Editha Payne,
philanthropist and slum worker,
and Mrs. Dennis Mccarthy and her
family of seven young and hopeful
McCarthys.
"Editha!" exclaimed the sanitary
inspector, so that the agent
grinned.
Robert" cried the settlement
worker. SO that the shrewd, kindly
Mrs. Mccarthy shrugged her Shout
ders.
"Sh-h-h-h, Little Patrick's SICK"
warned Editha. 1--WE been singing
lullaby songs to him"
"She has, indade. She's an an
GEL" said the discerning Mrs. Nc
Carthy, winking at young Boyle.
The Inspector sat down. awed in
the presence of the girl by the sick
bed, a wonderful tenderness in his
heart.
Hes the man that makes the
cruel landlords give us fresh air
and light" continued Mrs. McCar
thy. Hes man-angel." Then
she winked at Miss Editha.
There was an awkward pause,
while Patrick, in his fever, called
for ice cream sandwiches. Then
Mrs. Mccarthy observed:
cts fine work ye're doin', only
| don't see how we go it alone. Now.
Dennis comes home of nights from
he big hotel where he rolls trunks
all the livelong day. and he says
it's me and the seven children that
give him heart for his career"
The good lady paused to let the
moral soak in. and the young peo-
ple, looking up surreptitiously. let
their gazes encounter. Somehow, a
great light had come to young
Boyle. Crossing the room, he put
out his hand toward Miss Editha
Payne.
Mrs. Mccarthy is right" he
said. 1--WE known all the time I
lacked something-and it is you"
II think | began to know when
YOU left me that night at the
hotel" said the girl.
And Mrs. Dennis Mccarthy
clapped her hands so sloudly that
little Patrick desired to know
where was the circus parade.