Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1911-06-06
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CHAPTER /.
.RIAh HOOKER
r.,.s. ,o11. The Bobbs- Merrill Company

Has the twoforty-five for Boston
gone yet?
The train announcer looked at me
long time; then he shifted his plug OF
tobacco to the other cheek ana
drawled:
"Naouw. Reported forty minutes
late"
At this point believe I swore. Al
least have no recollection OF not 90
ing so, and should hardly have Tor
gotten so eminent an act Of virtue
under such difficult circumstances. !!
was not only that had worked myseil
into heat for nothing. But the tram
could hardly fail of losing yet more
time on it's way to Boston, and my
chances of making the steamer were
about one in three. My trunk would
go to Liverpool without me, prey TO
the inquisitive alien; and as for me !
was at the mercy of the steamship
company. For a moment wondered
how could possibly have doubted my
desire to go abroad that summer and
to 70 on that boat though the heavens
fell. 1t thought insanely OF automo-
biles and special trains. Then came
the reaction and I settled back com
fortably, hopeless, into the hands OF
fate. After all did not care an I'M
proper fraction whether stayed or
went let the gods decide. Only
wished something would happen. The
shining rails reached away to lose
themselves in haze OF heat.
Somewhere a switching engine was
putting like tired dog. Knots 81
listless humanity stood about un-
der the dingy roof of the platform:
and the wind across the harbor
brought refreshing aroma OF tidal
mud and dead clans. 1t occurred to me
that my collar was rather sticky on
the inside.
walked the platform tanning my
self with my hat. bought cigars, mag
azines and shine. explored the
station, scrutinizing faces and search
ing vainly for matters of interest.
exhausted my resources In filling up
fifteen minutes, and the hand OF the
electric clock seemed as tremulous
with indecision as 1t had before peen
jerky with haste. Nothing happened.
Nothing would happen or could hap
pen anywhere Romance was dead.
Feet scraped; bell chartered; then
breathing flame and smoke, and with
shrek that would have put Saint
George to utter rout, the down ex-
press rumbled between me and the
sky, and ground heavily to stand.
still. And there. framed in the wide
Pullman window, was face that al
tered all the colors of the day, and
sent me back among sleigh-bells and
holly. Not that had known her well;
but the week of intimate gaiety at a
Christmas house party had shown her
so sweetly merry, SO we'll fashioned In
heart and brain and body that the
sight OF her renewed pleasant mem
cries, dixie the reopening OF familiar
book. She was smiling now; not at
me, but with the same humorously
pensive little smile that remembered
and that seemed to come wholly from
within and to summarize her outlook
upon the world Her dark brows were
lifted in cool and friendly interest as
she glanced over the comfortless
crowd; and although was now some
what more at peace with the world,
and no longer hot nor hurried, she
seemed to me to sit there in the win
dow of her sweltering car thing
aloof and apart, the embodiment OF
all unruffled daintiness.
Her eyes found me and she nodded,
smiling. went forward eagerly. Here.
at least. in a stuffy and uninteresting
world was somebody cool, somebody
amusing, somebody l knew | picked
up my bag and ran up the steps OF
her car AS came down the aisle she
half rose and stretched out welcom
1 u Sv1t@ n
chair beside her.
"Well. this is luck" I said. "But
what are you doing here in the world
in July? You belong to Christmas in
setting Of frosty white and green
You're out of season now
| She laughed. Surely have as much
right in July as you have, Mr.. Crosby
| You are only sort Of yule-tide phan
tom yourself
| Wasn't it jolly week." asked.
Miss Tabor's smile answered me
Then turning half away with a face
grown suddenly and strangely bleak:
| ~ think it was the best Christmas OF
my life" she said mechanically. And
then with sudden return to sunshine:
| "I suppose J see the professor starting
! on his learned pilgrimage. Is 1t Europe
| this summer, or the great libraries Of
jAmerica?"
! She had twitted me before upon my
lack Of scholarly bearing which, as
had always explained, was but a mask
to unsupported profundity.
"Well,"-I began, deliberately crop
ing for decision among the tangled
fates of the afternoon, my doubtful
steamer and my grudging plans, "tc
tell you the truth, Miss Tabor"
She touched my arm and pointed out
OF the window Look" she said, "yor
haven't nearly time enough for thai
now. Do hurry-you mustn't take
chances"
The platform was slipping by faster
and faster, and with 1t sobriety and
common sense and the wisdom of the
beaten. path. On the other hand lay
the comedy Of the present and that
f1outing of ones own arrangements
which is the last word of freedom.
glanced down at her ticket, where II
lay face upward on the window-sill.
| ITO tell you the truth, Miss Tabor.
am on my way to Stamford" and
| - %oS 81 L