The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1911-03-11
THE EVENING STORY
In a Diary.
lBy Dorothy B1ackmore.)


ington square. It snatched bits of
paper and made kites of them: it
tangled the garments of pedestrians;
It made whirlpools of dust on the
street corners.
Suddenly, window was raised in
an apartment overlooking the park
and a housemaid shook gayly at her
duster- A gust of wind startled her
and she knocked a small book from I
the sill. The leaves were Tapping in
the wind and the book lying covers
down, on the pavement below before
she had recovered her Irish wits and |
slammed the window
AT that moment a man and a dog |
chanced along the street. The man
saw the book.
Good dog he said. pointing to
the volume.
The terrier promptly seized the |
leather in his teeth and, preceding /
ms master along the street, stopped |
at the entrance. of an apartment |
house. 1t was the animals custom to |
carry mail and parcels and this task |
was only slightly different. He |
wagged his abbreviated tail to and |
fro as he waited for the man to UNI
unlatch the door.
Before the chair of his master he |
dropped the book and was duly
patted.
"a diary, Turk" remarked the man
as he picked up the book ''some-
body'S lost diary He blew the |
dust from the pages
He looked for a name, but there
was none; therefore he promptly as
signed ownership to a woman. And, |
since there was no legitimate clew he
began to read the contents in search
of one.
The remarks set down were neither
profound nor especially noteworthy,
something in the manner of their
writing that appealed to him. The
viewpoint was fresh and the every
day characters were wildly presented.
She-for he had decided that the
author was woman-had many odd
| turns of language that made the sim
| pie Jottings surprisingly interesting.
AS he read he began to wish he
knew the author. He would like to
return the diary. And yet he had no
| tangible scent to follow. The mere
fact that she dined-or had dined in
| the course of the year in which the
diary had been keDt-in q small Boz
hemian restaurant in washington
square, was small evidence of her
| identity.
| Nevertheless Tom Archibald made
| 1t point to dine frequently in that
place. He felt reasonably sure that
If he could overhear the girls con-
IVersatlon he would recognize her. Ac-
cordingly, to his shame, be it added,
he often listened intently to the re-
marks of persons sitting near him.
Also, he ate larger dinners than were
| his custom SO as to prolong his stay
| in the restaurant
| After three weeks of intermittent
searching, he was dining again in the
small restaurant, his hope of finding
the author by this means at low
ebb. Suddenly, from a table behind
/ him, a man asked of his companion:
| Did you ever find your daryl"
Archibald upset his coffee, which
he was in the act of stirring, and
! dropped an ash down his waistcoat.
Then, as nonchalantly as possible, he
turned to look at the girl whom the
man had addressed.
| Don't ask painful questions re-
piled the girl. ST don't want to cry
here"
appeared so quickly" the man added.
| Some curious passerby," the girl
said. ST hope he is edited"
| A deep color mounted slowly to
IArchibald's brow. What was this APP
Ipalling thing he had done?-read the
for a way to set himself right. He
pressed the pocket of his coat to
make certain that the it'll, book re-
posed therein.
! He ordered another cup of coffee
and further cigars. Perhaps he could
follow the girl, unobserved, and find
| out where she lived. Then, he might
be able in some way to return the
diary without making known his own
identity.
AS he smoked and drank his coffee
the idea became less brilliant-it
failed to appeal to him as the thing
he wanted to do. Once or twice, he
had found opportunity to get glimpses
lof the girl, and with each succeeding
view of her face he was less pleased
with the idea of not making himself
known to her.
At last, inspired by the last drop
of coffee. he did a bold thing: he
took the book from his pocket and
began to read. Then, he extracted
pencil from another pocket and made
a notation on a blank page under the
date of the evening.
Tonight 1 found the author of
this diary. She is prettier than I had
dared to hope But-how can 1 con-
fess that I have read her musings?
L sign my name humbly--Tom Archi-
bald
/ After that, he called the waiter,
} paid his check and with the volume
in his hand, proceeded toward the
door. He had hoped that the girl
would see her book-for he was sure
it was hers-and take the matter of
recovering it into her own hands.
At the door, he turned for one last
Hook at her Her eyes were full upon
him-she had seen the book. He
went quickly to her table.
ut is yours, I believe = he ASKED,
| 6S,' Sd1Q. lH0rSIl1 CdSCAAy'
her companion looked on in astonish-
lment. ssWhere did you find it?''
my dog. Turk, picked it UP on the
sidewalk in the square - he said, half
eluding the truth. There is no name
in it, am sorry"
..I'm Dorothy Morton and-I thank
you," she said, simply.
Archibald released the book. rive
. tried to find you in this restaurant
the only c1ew I had to your Identity,
he explained.
How cleveri' the girl laughed.
She was turning over the pages of
her recovered treasure.
Archibald turned to the man oppo-
; site her you'll pardon my intrusion,
| hut had overheard your remark he
Il TlnrofhV found What