Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1912-01-11


culine tolerance. so long as you en-
Joy 1t. That's what counts, suppose;
and there's no accounting for taste"
Despite his own superior point Of
view, he had an idea that she knew
lot, and he experienced fieeting
feeling like that of barbarian face
to face with the evidence of some tre-
mendous culture. To Daylight cul-
ture was a worthless thing, and yet.
somehow, he was vaguely troubled by
q sense that there was more In culture
than he imagined.
Again, on her desk, In passing, he
noticed book with which he was IA
miliar This time he did not stop, for
he had recognized the cover. 1t was
a magazine correspondents book on
the Klondike, and he knew that he
and his photograph figured in 1t, and
he knew. also. Of a certain sensational
chapter concerned with a woman's
suicide, and with one ITO Much Day.
light" After that he did not talk with
her again about books. He imagined
what erroneous conclusions she had
drawn from that particular chapter,
and 1t stung him the more in that they
were undeserved. He pumped Morri.
son, the clerk, who had first to vent
his personal grievance against Miss
Mason before he could tell What little
he knew OF her.
"She comes from SiskIyou County.
She's very nice to work with in the
Office, of course, but she's rather stuck
on herself-exclusive. you know"
''How do you make that out?" Day
light Queried.
"Well, she thinks too much Of
herself to associate with those she
works with, in the office here, for in
stance. She won't have anything to
do with fellow, you see. I've ask
ed her out repeatedly, to the theater
and the chutes and such things. But
nothing doing. Says she likes plenty
of sleep, and can't stay up late, and
has to go all the way to Berkeley
that's where she lives. But that's all
hot air. She's running with the Uni.
versity boys, that's what she's doing.
She needs lots of sleep, and can't 60
to the theater with me, but she can
dance all hours with them. I've heard
it pretty straight that she goes to all
their hops and such things. Rather
stylish and heightened for a stenog-
rapher, I'd say. And she keeps a
horse, too. She rides astride all over
those hills out there. / saw her one
Sunday myself. Oh, she's high
flyer, and I wonder how she does 1t.
Sixty-flve month don't 60 far. Then
she has a sick brother, too"
Live with her people?" Daylight
asked.
mo: hasn't got any. They were
well to do. I've heard. They must have
been, or that brother or hers couldn't
have gone to the University Of Cali
fornia. Her father had a big cattle.
ranch, but he got to fooling with mines
or something, and went broke before
he died. Her mother died long before
that. Her brother must cost a lot of
money. He was husky once, played
football, was great on hunting and be-
ing out In the mountains and such
things. He got his accident break
ing horses, and then rheumatism or
something got into him. One leg Is
shorter than the other, and withered
up some. He has to walk on crutches.
saw her out with him once-cross-
ing the ferry. The doctors have been
experimenting on him for years, and
he's in the French Hospital now,
think"
All Of which side-lights on Miss Ma.
son went to increase Daylight's inter.
est in her. Yet, much as he desired,
he failed to get acquainted with her.
He had thoughts of asking her to
luncheon, but his was the innate chiv-
airy of the frontiersman, and the
thoughts never came to anything. He
knew self-respecting, square-dealing
man was not supposed to take his
stenographer to luncheon. Such things
did happen, he knew, for he heard
the chatting gossip Of the club: but he
did not think much OF such men and
felt sorry for the girls.