Elk City mining news. (Elk City, Idaho) 1903-1913, 1912-10-24
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Which was very true. But after the
subdued medical man had departed.
the jug of yellow roses caught Stan
tons eye. A card was dangling from
the stems, a card, blank this time, ex-
cept for a penciled legend:
so glad o were able to race, but
so sorry you lost to the ATLANTA"
There was nc need of signature.
Stanton very carefully tore the card
into illegible fragments. dragged out
the flowers to fling them into the arid
fireplace, and rang the bell.
Bring fresh ice-water." he babe
the bell-boy who appeared. And a
timetable for New York"
However, he did not leave Lowell
that day, detained by Mr.. Green with
a score of appointments and arrange
ments. Nor was it until two days later
that he found himself free to seek the
address in upper New York which he
had wrested from the reluctant assist
ant manager.
Floyd asked me not to give 1t to
people," Mr.. Green had protested.
did he ask you not to give it to
me?"
mo, but"
Very good; I am not people"
Don't you see him enough at race
times, Stanton? I'm sure he is the
best man We have had" fretted his
manager.
Stanton was recalling that interview
as he went up the stairs of the quiet
apartment house indicated. After all,
it was true that Floyd might have
volunteered his address, himself, If
he had wished 1t known. Perhaps he
did not want to see his driver unoff1-
cially. A sense of unwelcomeness op-
pressed Stanton, but he kept on his
way. He had never swerved from a
course because Of the opinions Of
others; he did not think Of turning
back now.
Some n was singing, as he reached
the fourth floor; singing in a smooth,
honey-rich. honey-golden contralto.
Warned Of his approach by the bell
pushed below, the door of the apart
ment was opened, so that the melody
came flooding his hearing with it's
haunting familiarity. A little old
Irishwoman in black silk was peering
up at the tall visitor on the threshold.
"Mr. Floyd?" he inquired. my
name is Stanton"
The old servant drew back, smiling
invitation, and pushed aside a cur
tain. And Stanton saw Jessica Floyd
rise from her seat at the piano, TAX
ing a step to meet him.
She was SO like Floyd that he could
have cried out in wonder, yet was
most purely and softly feminine. She
seemed taller, in her clinging pale
blue gown, and even more slender, but
Floyd's silver-gray eyes looked out
from her long lashes, Floyd's bronze
curls clustered around her wide
brows, under the braids wound about
her head, and her smile was a more
ttmid reflection Of the incarnate sun
shine Of his.
II am sorry Jes is not at home" she
said, holding out her hand with a nat
ural grace Of hospitality that rose
above her nervous shyness. II am
Jessica Floyd, Mr.. Stanton, his sis
ter"
She was afraid Of him. The too OBJ
vious fact struck deep into Stanton,
as he felt her fingers iutter in his
clasp. So this was the reputation he
had earned for himself?
Perhaps l should not have come
he ~apologized quite humbly. Il
Floyd gave me no warrant for 1t. But
he was very good to me, when I wal
sick In Lowell. and l wanted to thanh
him"
She looked at him fully, then, and
again he could have cried out at the
wonder Of so meeting Floyd's straight
candor Of regard.
why should you not come? JET
has not so many friends that they are
not welcome In his home. Only, If ht
had known of your coming, he would
have beer here"
She moved to a chair, inviting hin
, by a gesture to do likewise, and tool
up a half-embroidered silk scarf.
"He was called out Of town." sh'
added, after waiting for her silen
guest to speak. He will be sorry e
t have missed you. From Mr.. Green h
learned that o had quite recovered
e after he left you"
And he? hurt his arm"
She glanced up astonished.
r you hurt his ARM"
II was driving the car" Stanton
: assumed grim responsibility.
This time she laughed, two ADORABLE
dimples starting into view In he
r cheeks Of glowing rose-and,ambe