The Democratic advocate., 1909-09-10
ONE AUGUST NIGHT
She Was Told the Story Of the
Lady Of ShaIott.
y VIRGINIA LEILA wENrz.

seemed sleepy or sleeping Cobblers
slept with half mended boots In their
laps; Italian women slept at their fruit
stands with sleeping babies at their
breasts; horses trotted conscientiously
along in front of sleeping drivers.
In the department store where An
tona Wheaton worked the day had
been difficult. especially behind the
stuffy corner where she measured out
ribbons. And, oh, what godsend the
loud sounding bell at G had beenl Most
of the girls in the store were city bred,
and they accepted the conditions of
August phllosophiaelly, but Antona
Wheaton had come from fresh little
country town in the west, and as she
leaned from her boarding house win
dow-the third floor hall room, back
few minutes before going down to
dinner 1t seemed to her that she was
locked In a place Of torment from
which no escape was possible
They dined at In Mrs. Browns
boarding house. In the half hour that
Antona had been home she had taken
a sponge bath, brushed her silky, fax
en- hair and changed her black alpaca
dress for a simple white muslin. As
she leaned out of the window from the
open space beside the storage house
In the rear she could see the dust
carts roll down the streets. The whisk-
ing Of their big rotary brooms remind
ed the country bred girl Of large tur-
key gobblers sweeping the earth with
disdainful, proud wings The open
space faced the west, and, resting her
little oval cheeks in her hands, Antona
could see that the sun was doing its
best to set with some sort OF rightful
beauty, even In this homely downtown
section.
Where the quiet colored end OF
evening smiles
Antona was speaking TO herself In a
reprehensible fashion that was grow
ing on her. trying TO recall some verses
which Francis Logan had quoted TO
her one sunset time down on the Bat.
terry, She. had fancied she could re-
member them, they were so simple and
lovely
Just then Mrs. Browns cracked din.
ner bell rang.
Across the long, narrow table Fran
els Logan glanced at Antona with
something like a lump born Of big.
protective instinct rising In his throat.
Every yestige OF fresh country rose
bloom had fed from the girls sweet
face, and In the intervals when she
fancied she was not observed the
young fellows alert eye noticed that
black lashes rested heavily against
her cheek as would those OF one who Is
overweary.
Antona's weariness struck home per.
haps because Of contrast Francis him.
self was more than usually happy that
night.
The big importing house where he
was employed had that very morning
sent a note to his desk informing him
that his salary had been increased
some $40 a month. His dear mother,
over in Devonshire, had just written
him that relative had left her an un-
expected little legacy. Altogether the
world was going well with Francis Lo-
gan.
"You look pleased, Mr.. Logan" oh.
served Mrs Brown from her accus.
toned seat at the head OF the table
"Ah, ! remember-this Is your favor,
ite soupp'
For five years now young Logan had
been an inmate Of Mrs Browns estab-
lishment without having ever changed
his seat at table or his room. Natural
ly Mrs. Brown sought TO ingratlate her.
self with him.
"Why, my dear" she had exclaimed
once to Antona In burst OF enthusl.
asm, "he knows all the poets by heart
He sees only the best plays, even
though II may be from gallery seats
He knows all the finest pictures up in
the Metropolitan, He has what they
call an artistic taste too. My lands,
you should hear him notice the sunset
at the end of narrow city street or a
tiny flower out in the park or
"Yes, ! know said Antona impul-
sively, for once coming out Of her re.
serve. "He's pure gold-thats what he
is!'
'Huhl GoldP" Mrs. Brown had re-
torted dlsdainfully. "None O your
pretty, soft yellow stun for him. He's
good, solid, practical steel, II any one
asked me, Don't you forget IT, Miss
Wheaton And If you could be fortu-
nate enough 70 tie up to him
Mrs. Brown had broken of abruptly
at fash from Miss Wher toms eye.
One dared not presume too far with
Miss Wheaton, in spite Of the silky,
faxen hair and the childish dimples,
as many Of the young men In the de.
partment store had found out.
"If only they could be a little more
like Mr. Loganr' Antona had more
than once found herself commenting as
she pinned up her colored bolts. "He
is the soul Of honor, and IL don't
know what I'd do without himP'
Had a stroke Of luck today, little
girl" Logan waylaid Antona as she
was going upstairs after the scanty
saucer Of raspberries, made purple
with milk, had been eaten. II want
you to come out tonight and help me
celebrate-if you'll do me the honor
A little later, from the basement din
ing room window. Mrs. Brown. who
was arranging her cloth for the next
mornings breakfast, watched them go
up the street together Antona, in her
simple white muslin. wore a nodding
spray Of pink roses at her waist. Az
they walked toward the west the
young fellows eyes were fastened
adorihgly upon her.
Guess they'll hit = OF all right"