The Brownsville daily herald. [volume] (Brownsville, Tex.) 1897-1910, 1909-03-06

" employed"
Il may well believe You, - I declared
with asperity. Now hope 1 can
pound it into you in some way that
your presence in this neighborhood is
effensive-to me-personally"
He stared at the ceiling, silent, i'm
perturbable.
And I'm going to give you safe con
duct through the lines-or if neces-
sary III buy your ticket and start you
for New York. And if there's an atom
OF honor IN you, you'll go peaceably
and not publish the fact that you
know the whereabouts of these Ia
dies"
He reflected graveIy for a moment.
q think" he said, that on the
whole that's fair proposition. But
you seem to have the impression that
I wish to annoy these ladies'
You don't for a moment imagine
that you are likely to entertain them,
do you? You haven't got the idea
that you are necessary to their happi-
ness, have you?''
He raised himself on his elbow with
some difficulty; fiinched as he tried to
make himself comfortable and began:
THE trouble with Miss Pat is
There is no trouble with Miss Pat"
snapped.
"The trouble between Miss Pat and
me is the same old trouble of the
buttons" he remarked, dolorously.
Buttons, you idiot?"
"Quite so. Buttons, Just plain,
very-day buttons; buttons for button
ing purposes.
The fellow was undoubtedly mad.
looked about for a weapon; but he
went on gravely:
What does the name Gillespie
mean? Of what is it the sign and
symbol wherever man hides his
nakedness? Button, button, who'll
buy my buttons? 1t can't be possible
that you never heard of the Gillespie
buttons? Where have you lived, my
dear sir?"
'sWill you please stop talking rot
and explain what you want here?'
demanded, with growing heat.
THAT, my dear sir, is exactly what
Pm doing I'm a sutton for the hand
of Miss Patricia's niece. Miss Patricia
scorns me; she says I'm mere child
of the Philistine rich and declines an
alliance without thanks, If you must
know the truth. And it's all on &C
count of the fact, shameful enough,
admit, that my father died and left me
a large and prosperous button fac
tory"
why don't you give the Internal
thing away-sell it out to a trust"
"Ah! ah!"-and he raised himself
again and pointed bandaged hand al
me. 81 see that you are man of
penetration You have keen notion
of business! You anticipate met |
did sell the Internal thing to trust,
but there was no shaking it! They
made me president of the combina-
ton, and control more buttons than
any other living man! My dear sir,
dictate the button prices of the world.
can tell you to nicely how many
buttons are swallowed annually by
the babies Of the universe. But
hope, sir, that l use my power wisely
and without depressing the people,
Gillespie lay on his back, wrapped
in my dressing gown, his knees raised,
his bandaged arms folded across his
chest. Since bringing him into the
house l had studied him carefully and,
/ must confess, with increasing mys-
LITIGATION. He was splepdidly put up,
the best-muscled man had ever seen
who was not a professional athlete.
His forearms and clean-shayen face
were brown from prolonged tanning
by the sun, but otherwise his skin was
the pink and white of healthy baby.
His short light hair was combed
smoothly away from a broad fore
head; his blue eyes were perfectly
steady-they even invited and held
scrutiny; when he was not speaking
he closed his lips tightly.
l half believed the fellow to be
amusing himself at my expense; but
he met my eyes calmly. If l had not
caught luDatie l had certainly cap
tured an odd specimen of humanity
He was the picture of wholesome liv-
ing and sound health; but he talked
Ikea fool. The idea of young woman
like Helen Holbrook giving two
thoughts to a silly youngster like this
was preposterous, and my heart hard
ened against him
You are fiippant, Mr.. Gillespie, and
my errand with you Is serious. There
are places in this house where could
lock you up and you would never see
your button factory again. You seem
to have had some education"
"The word does me great honor,
Donovan. They chHcked me from
Yale in my junior year Why, you
may ask? Well, it happened this way:
You know Rooney, the Bellefontaine
Cyclone? He struck New Haven
with vaudeyills outfit, giving exhi-
billions, poking the bag and that sort
Of fake. At every town they invited
the local sports to dig up their bright
est amateur middle-weight and put
him against the Cyclone for five
rounds. brushed my hair the wrong
way for a disguise and went against