Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-02-06
Around the CITY

"A gray muse III d. gray IOreSC-Ine mouse
empty, the forest bare. Soppy gray clouds
above the leaf1ess trees, and beneath "a
morass of slush-gray snow
Some sinister danger must have stalked
abroad, for the house. old and gray and
doorless, was built high up In the crotch
of ghostly birch. sheltered from the
wind that swayed its branches
The one living creature to brave the
gray silence and the soppy clouds and icy
wind was cheerfully brisk fellow in i
fur overcoat, who covered the morass in
long, jumpy steps, as IL he saw a good
time ahead and was hurrying to get there.
He was In such hurry that he crossed
the slush from tree to tree, instead of
bothering to go around by the roads that
led through the forest. and at last hs
came to the birch. Possibly he also
may have feared the sinister danger, for
he looked carefully about him before he
climbed. overcoat and all, up to the house
IN the crotch. AS he reached the square
OF interior blackness that answered for a
door he looked around him again. Then
he reached In paw, and-there's the cat
out OF the bag, only 1t wasn't cat. but a
squirrel.
Which shows how conceited some folks
are. to try and make a story with thrills
to 1t, out Of a bird-box in the Capitol
grounds, on stormy afternoon.
Perhaps, however, the woman who was
waiting in tied-up car with nothing to
look at but the bare trees and the de-
serted paths and slush-covered grass and
sloppy gray clouds, wasn't really and
truly conceited. Maybe she honestly fet
thrill or two, on her own account as
she watched that intelligent pinch of fur
feed itself from the stock OF nuts he had
wisely hidden in a bird box which he
knew would be empty all winter.
Or course, there would have been some
excuse for writing it up if 1t had been a
grounding.
But it wasn't a grounding any more
than 1T wasn't a cat.
1t was squirrel.
The man was handsome and wore the
best business suit tailor could make
The woman who had called to the bank
and asked for him was old. vigorously
assertiye and sartorially queer.
I've come to you on account Of your
name. Are you any kin to Capt. Blank"
The man responded that he was the
captains son.
We'll. he was a good man, God rest
him. OF all the ships I ever boarded he
was the best captain OF them all-and
you're his SON.
The knowledge must have been assur-
ing, for the old soul proceeded to con-
fidences:
I'm just out of the hospital fellow
almost killed me to get at the money he
robbed me Of-right at the door of my
own home. at that-oh. well, God be
praised. he got my purse, but he didn't
get the savings out of my stocking.
That's where I've always kept my money,
but I've concluded now to put it in the
bank. / hate to have to come to it, for
1 don't trust banks, but I'm getting old.
and ever since 1 was robbed-and as
you're the captains own SON"
The man. touched, doubtless. by the
tribute to his dead father, told the old
woman very kindly what to do, First
she must sign her name.
Must, Is iti'' she fiared at him. Sure
and the man amt alive who can tell me
! must do this or that or the other 1
don't take orders from any man. I'm
woman. but 1 can fight my way any
day in the year. You young whipper-
snapper. you. to stand there and tell me
what ! must do. Why. the captain
OF course 1t was settled amicably In the
end. and the old woman went properly
through the ceremony that consigned
handbook to her stocking. instead of the
the incident worth recording was the
beautiful patience Of the man who was
the captains son.
A crowd was banked around the Frank
lin statue. In the ring formed by listen
ing men and women man in uniform
sang to the guitar accompaniment he was
playing, and when he had finished d
woman began to talk.
A man who must have been a stranger
paused in passing to ask the meanin..
of the service. The man who respondea
was more than willing to explain:
"Just the regular open airs, sir with
more on hand than ususal because oae
Of the officers Is farewelling this weei.--'
The stranger thanked him politely a,d
walked on.
And another passerby. who had over
heard, looked up at dear stone Benjamin
F., and wondered how he liked the new
word that had been added to the Eng
lish language.
She was a pathetically neat woman
with the white, harassed face that comes
from forever trying to make both ends
overtaken another woman, who had just
left newsstand.
did you drop this money? l picked il
up, and you had just opened your
purse I thought 1t might be yours
The other woman glanced at her -
It was gaping wide. Then, recallin
she had heard a jingling sound she Slip
ped her finger into the side pocket where
she knew she ought to have just fifty
cents after buying her magazine. 1t was
gone. Then she looked at the finder and
friends all-the honesty of hun cry
looking woman is not a joyous thiE To
seel Then she said:
Thank you very much. but 1t does not
belong to me-
And when the finder had slipped away
in the dusk the woman who had lost the
money said to herself-for woman must
talk or die:
ut isn't the first lie l ever told, and
I reckon it won't be my last, butt is
my best