The Washington times., 1911-01-08
IN MEMORY OF
REV. PHILIP MORTON.
PRESENTED BY HIS
,NEIGHBORHOOD FRIENDS.

David stared at the window. There
was a short wave of bitterness that
Morton should be so honored-and he
what he was. Then the glow that had
possessed him in the chapel flowed back
In even greater warmth. The window
seemed to David. in his mood of that
exalted moment, to be the perpetuation
in glowing color of Morton's spirit and
influence.
It seemed to throw forth into the
street, upon the chance passerby, the
inspiration of Morton's Efe.
Yes, four years had counted!
Half an, hour later David took his
stand against the shadowed stoop Of an
empty mansion In Madison avenue, and
gaZed at a great house across the
street.-the only residence in the block
that had reopened for the autumn. All
thought of Morton and THE mission was
only with the other great fear of his
last four years. If she came out of
the door he watched, If he gltmpsed her
beneath a wlndow-shade, then she prob
was still unmarried.
A cold drizzle had begun to fall. He
drew his head down into his upturned
collar. and though his weakened body
| shivered, he noticed neither the rain
nor the protest Of his flesh His whole
! being was directed at the house across
| the way.
Slow minute followed slow minute
| The door did not open, and he saw no
one within the windows. His heart
beat as though 1t would shake his body
apart. The sum of four years suspense
so weakened him that he could hardly
| stand. Yet he stood and waited, wait
ed; and he realized more keenly than
ever how dear she was to him-though
| to possess her was beyond his widest
dreams. and, perhaps, he might not even
| speak to her again.
At length a nearby steepie called the
, hour of 10. A carrige began to turn
in toward the opposite sidewalk. David.
all a-tremble, stepped from his shadow.
| The carriage stopped before the Cham
bers home. He hurried across the street
! and a dozen PAGES away from the car
riage he stopped and made pretense of
| tying his shoelace; but all the while
his eyes were on the carriage door,
which the footman had thrown open.
| First a man stepped forth, back to
! David, and raised an umbrella. Who?
| The next instant David caught the pro-
| file. 1t was Mr. Chambers. After him
came a stout, middle-aged womar-Mrs.
Bosworth his widowed sister, who had
been living with him since his wife's
death.
A moment later Mr.. Chambers was
| heIping another woman from the car
riage. The umbrella cut her face froA
! Davfd's gaze, but there was no mistak-
| ing her So she still lived in the house
OF her fatherI
She paused an instant to speak 10 the
footman. For a second a new fear lived
| in David: might she not come with her
| father to her fathers house, and still
! he married? But at the seconds end
| the fear was destroyed by the Conven-
| tional three-word response of the foot
man David watched her go up the
steps. her face hidden by the umbrella,
watched her enter and the door close
behind her. Then, overcome by the vast
relief which followed upon his vast
suspense, he sank down upon the stoop.
and the three words of the footman
maintained a thrilling iteration in his
ears:
The three words were: Thank You,
miss
! Continuation of This Story VIII BE
Fonnd in TomOrrow's Issue
! Of The Times.)