Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1909-09-17
ONE AUGUST NIGHT,
She Was Told the Story of the
 Lady of ShaIott.
By VIRGINIA LEILA WENTZ.


 It had been an unusually oppressive day even for August. Every one seemed sleepy or sleeping. Cobblers slept with hat mended boots in their i laps: Italian women slept at their fruit stands with sleeping babies at their breasts; horses trotted conscientiously i along in front of sleeping drivers.
 In the department store where An tona Wheaton worked the day had | been difficult. especially behind the l stuffy corner where she measured out l ribbons And, oh, what q godsend the lOud sounding bell at 6 had been! Most of the girls in the store were city bred, and they accepted the conditions of August philosophiaclly, but Antona Wheaton had come from fresh little country town in the west, and as she leaned from her boarding house win 0Ow-the third floor hall room. back . few minutes before going down to dinner it seemed to her that she was locked in 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. flax 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 gobblcrs 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 it's 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 reprebenSble 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 tery She had fancied she could re- member them, they were so simple and lovely.
 ner bell rang.
 Across the long, narrow table Fran cis Logan glanced at Antona with something like a lump born of a big protective instinct rising in his throat Every vestige of fresh country rose bloom had fled from the girls sweet face, and in the intervals when she young fellows alert eye noticed that black lashes rested heavily against her check as would those of one who Is Overweary.
 Antonas 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 note to his desk informing him that his salary had been increased some $10 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, Mir. Logan" ob served Mrs Brown from her accus- toned seat at the head of the table 'Ah. | rememher-this is your favor ite soup
 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 ingratiate her self with him.
 "Why. my dear" she had exclaimed once 10 Antona in burst of enthusl- asm. "he knows all the poets by heart He sees only the best plays. even though it may be from gallery seats. He knows all the finest pictures up ill 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- eNSiN' AoA NhNV \"iaAhS out ol HeI re serve. Hes pure gold-that's what he is!'
 Huh! 'Gold?'" Mrs. Brown had re- torted disdainfully None O your pretty. soft yellow stuff for him. He's good. solid. practical steel if any one asked me. Don't you forget it. Miss Wheaton. And if you could be fortu- pota ano,1oh tO tie up tO him''-
 Mrs Brown had broken off abruptly at flash from Miss Wheatons eve. 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 he little more