Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1910-06-28
! THE EVENING STORY
HEALTH AND HYMEN.
BY Stacy e. Baker.

Copyright, 1910, by Associated Liter
airy Press
AS Damon approached suitcase in
hand, the driver Of the great car
chugged restlessly by the curb bounc-
ed eagerly down from his seat and re-
lieved that youth of his luggage.
For small town, this Blissville
has them all beat" ruminated the
young cigar salesman, leading back
on the rear cushions. "Blissvile for
mine, hereafter, at every opportunity
Must be peacherino of hotel when
it sends an automobile after it's
guests"
In all truth, the chauffeur was es-
tablishing a speed record. Houses
flashed dizzily by, and the main stem
of the little burg unfolded as dirty
gray ribbon to the unsophisticated
roadster who was even then making
his initial visit to the trade.
e" Speed on, McDuff.' misraoted
the commercial man, and lea.Ied hap
PLY back to dream his; omnipresent
dreams.
On and on went the car at an ever
increasing pace. Damon's eyes
opened to contemplate picturesque
building just ahead. Four stories
high, it fared to the very sky sew
eral gaudy gables which color-lov-
ing owner had caused to be smeared
with all the colors of the rainbow.
"Gee!" murmured the astonished
youth as the car slowed suddenly
down to turn in at green-hedged
roadway leading to the spacious
porch that connected with the insti-
tuition, mine host must suffer from
an acute attack of coloritis. This is
the happiest looking plant have
ever stopped at" The machine came
to slow stop, and the active driver
jumped hastily down and opened the
door for Damon to alight.
A fussy little person came forward
and grasped the youths suitcase.
"You are here, see," he beloved in
a voice that told of no lack of lung
power.
Just So" acknowledged Damon.
He eyed the man curiously. II sup
pose you are the proprietor. This is
my first trip through this section
The squat, monkeylike person
stared. Il hope it will be your last, .
he rumbled. "No I'm not the boss,
but l take his place when he's gone.
I'm the general athletic instructor.
Mulqueen is my name" He seized
the soft hand of the labor ignorant
drummer and squeezed it to beating
pulp.
Arthur Damon had some experience
with hotels, big and little. In fact,
~, y, Dc 1,o = 0n -;
to see something of life on, most
expensive plane, and this move in
the capacity of a cigar salesman had
nothing to do with needing the money.
There were other reasons. But in all
Damon's experience an athletic in
.structor for the guests of hotel was
unheard of. you are what?" he
gasped.
can athletic instructor" reared the
strenuous voiced one. II give 'em
their bumps, do" He summed up
the broad frame and the erect shout
ders-back attitude of the youth be-
fore him. "You look as Ii you could go
some" he volunteered. II have set
your try-out for o'clock"
Me, grasped Damon. mot me, my
friend. | have other business to at
tend to-" They were now on the in
side of large well-furnished office.
Where is your register?" demended
the cigar salesman.
"You don't have to register" loudly
assured the athletic instructor. "Ev-
trything is o. K We have had your
room reserved for you for three days. "
Say" preluded Damon, taking the
stocky one by the arm and leading
him towards cushioned seat at some
little distance away. "You and went
to get together There's some mis-
take here. You evidently take me for
some one else. l am Arthur Damon,
a cigar salesman, and Pm. in your
old burg on business and not to pull
off boxing bouts with-er-athletic
instructors"
''You think you are" calmly came
from the other, but, as matter OF
fact, you are Andrew Dimelling, OF
New York. suffering from a nervous
breakdown caused by too much burn