Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-06-17

without the slightest grudge against the
world. I'm not going to be a beggar;
want to earn my right to share in beau.
tiful things.
why, Mr. Craighill,' she continued
with increasing vehemence, "all the men
l have. ever known have been laborins
men-men who work with their hands
these things"' In her passionate earnest
ness she helS out her hands, as though
they were part of her case for labor. MY
father was an anthracite miner and he
died at work. I've seen sad things in my
life. | had little brother who was
crushed to death in a breaker. He was
oiler boy. and he was SO eager to get
time to play at noon with the other boys
that he crawled in to do his work before
the machinery stopped and he was ground
to pieces-fourteen years old. Mr.. Craig
hill! l can't get over that-that he was
a child and he died trying to win time
away from labor to play! I've seen them
bring bodies Of dead men out of mines
all my life-my own father was killed by
a fall of slate-but I'd rather sweep the
streets. if L were you, or dig bitches, OF
drive mules down in the dark than just
be--well, nothing in particular but some
body's son with money to spend-and not
the least bit of sense about spending it,.
Wayne Craighill had been scolded, and
nagged. and prayed over without effect
but this speech was like challenge;
there was a cry of trumpets in it. And
her reference to the dead men of the pit
and the mordant scorn of her last phrases
set his blood tingling. He was aware now
that it was a sweet and precious thing
to be near her--no other voice had power
to thrill like hers; no other eyes had ever
searched his soul with SO deep and ear
nest a questioning.
IF 1 will labor for you-if / will work
with these hands for you'-he held them
out in unconscious imitation of her own
manner a moment before, looking down
at them curiously-"will you take my
life. what l can make of it, and go on
to the end with me--you and L together! =
She shook her head. though with a
smile on her lips.
NO, That is an impossible thing. And
this idea of my helping you'll haven I
the least bit of patience with that-not
the least. You were born free, but you
have wasted your freedom. If once you
the toll of the men down below-you
would see life differently, and all beauti-
full things would mean more to you. You
are big and strong and You can be
man if you want to be. But I'm going
to do a foolish thing-the most foolish
thing 1 could do. 1 suppose-Im going to
be friends with you-just as long as you
will let it be that; and I'm saying this-I
wonder if you know why?"
You are kind, that is all l need to
know.
I'm not in the least ind-tdont mis-
understand me. But" she smiled bright
ly, confidently, Il trust you. L believe in
you and like you. If that suits you I'm
ready to begin"
She put out her hand with a frank
gesture and her smile won him to instant
acquiescence. though there were stipula-
lions he wished to make as to this new
relationship. He caught a glimpse of the
motor bringing his father and Mrs. Craig
hill from the station as it flashed past
the windows to the carriage entrance.
The desire to possess, to protect, to de-
fend this woman set his heart singing
She did not fear him, an evil. abhorTed
castaway, an ugly wreck on the shoals
of time: she had spoken to him rather
as a man might have done. but his re-
Spouse was to the woman heart in her.
His hand trembled in her clasp. and the
wholesomeness, the sweetness, the ear
nestness of her own nature kindied the
hope OF life in his heart. He felt new
ease. as Of lifted burdens, and a light
was round about him; and well for this
exalted moment that he could not see
ahead into the circling dark.
Goodbye, Jean!' He bent down and
held her hand an instant to his cheek
the hand that had known labor!
Goodbye. Wayne Craighill,' she re-
piled, Soberly.
A moment later he left the house by the
front door, unnoticed by his father and
Mrs. Craighill, who at the same moment
in the side hall.