The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1911-11-20
The Little
Green Bird
BY WILLIAM HOLLOWAY
eorrrIeHr. 1910, n m. PEARSON ru.I1s.I.e Co.

Didnt tel you l q IRE you II yor
KEEP il up?" demanded the massive
jawed foorwalker, as he stood glarins
angrily at his palc-faced, understood
subordinate. An haven't you KEEP i!
up? This amt place for reading
poetry, an it amt an open-air sleep
ins joint; this is department store
Dye get that?"
Henry Marston, who earned eleven
dollars week by sliding dressgoods
across a shiny counter, nodded dole.
fully. Il get 1t, Mr.. Davidson" he
said with little gasp.
The foor-waller, who had almost as
much sense Of romance as an ostrich.
snorted violently. Department store
rules make no allowance for a man
Who stands absorbed in beautiful
3reams when he should be measuring
off seven yards of blue serge for a
red-nosed spinster.
Couldn't see the old maid, could
you?" asked the fioor-walker with
clumsy sarcasm AN of course yop
couldn't notice tn dumpy young
woman with her; she hadn't style
enough, l suppose"
The space before the dress-goods
countAr happened for the moment to
be deserted; hut as matter of pre-
caution the fioor-walker lowered his
-s.ce. 9TH young lady was Miss
Drayton, her that's going to marry tn
French count-an' tn old woman was
her aunt. Th' porter told me tn old
woman fairly dragged her in. An now
sney'ye goine off huffy."
Drayton's department store. as
everybody knows, is O'Leary's great
rival. Consequently the news that
Hiss Drayton had actually come into
the store and that she had left with
out getting served caused clerks at
neighboring counters to gaze at the
unhappy offender much as they would
at a needless puppy in the death-yan
Of the S. P. C. A
Il dunno what tn old mans going
to say to me- went on the iloor-walker
gloomily. Like as not he'll fire me;
but guess III clean house before I
CO."
He shook his fist at the insignificant
figure of the dreamer. '"Twenty-three
for you," he growled.
Marston came slowly from behind
the shiny black counter, stufhng into
his pocket the volume of Keats. which
he had been reading.
TIL. salesladies-many of them raw
ishing creatures with gilt hair and the
latest COMPREHENSIVE might rea-
sonably have been expected to ap-
preciate romance. but who somehow
failed to associate it with Marston's
dropping shoulders, his pale blue eyes,
or the caricature he called his face,
made way for him as he passed. For
an instant he saw their careless,
scornful faces through mist; the next
he was standing, bare-headed, in the
avenue.
Fired" he said half-aloud. Fired.
by all that's holy!"
He swung upon his heel, put on his
hat, walked out and slowly up the ave-
nue.. At the corner a street fakir was
telling fortunes by means of a melan-
choly green bird, which stood upon a
box filed with tiny folded papers, each
containing a printed fortune. war
ranted to strip the veil from the flu.
ture.
Marston had passed the man and his
feathered prophet time out of mind.
with no thought of consulting tho
oracle. Now, in the chaos to which
his discharge had reduced him. It
seemed the proper, almost the neces-
sary, thing to do.
He paused by the box and placed a
nickel in the fakir's grimy hand. The
man made a queer sound in his throat
and the melancholy green bird. thrust
ing down its beak with an air of pro.
found Indifference, pulled out a small
folded paper.
Marston opened it eagerly. while tha
green bird with a blasc air began to
preen its detected tail feathers
You are about to change your posi-.
ton for better one" was the legend
that confronted him.
He looked at the melancholy green
bird, and at the stolid fakir; then he
glanced at the printed slip. After
which he thrust the paper in his
pocket and went thoughtfully on his
way.
Half an hour later he found himself
in the French quarter, a few blocks
west of Madison Square. And here
leaning against an old-fashioned iron
railing, he took out his paper fortune
For the first time he noticed he had
read it only in part
You are about to change your posl
ton for better one. You have faileS
because you have been dreamer. B.
practical and success is yours."
He stood a moment in thought,
while he carefully slowed away the
precious slip of paper. Then from his
coat pocket he produced padded
leather edition of Keats's poems.
The spectacle of a man tearing to
pieces a wellbound book of poetry and
cremating the fragments is sufficiently
unusual 10 attract attention, even in a
quiet side-street A man, who had
been smoking at the basement door of
the house behind him. now came for.
ward to the iron railing.
VAR funny" he remarked. with a
strong French accent. What for you
do zat?"
Marston looked up from his labors.
He had seated himself on the curb
stone and was burning the torn pieces
of the immortal poems with great in
dustry.
Il got fred to-day" he explained.
! was thinking Of poetry and l wasn't
on the job. Dye see?"
The Frenchman, who was short and
fat nodded wisely. Il chase one
waiter other day" he declared. "AlI
time he read papers-all time"
man has got to be practieal,r