The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1912-07-11
THE EVENING Story
Eileen.
(By Jean DickerSon.)

Martin sat in the janitor's room OF
the fashionable apartment house read
ing a letter that the poStman had just
handed him. He spelled out the words
slowly, and his round, durry face grew
more perplexed and dismayed as he
reached the end:
London. Jan. 10, 1910.
Dearest Martin:-Youre last letter is
next my hart. You can never know
how proud I am of you to think of
a crate city like new York. 1 am
sending you bit of newspaper show
ing what a CRATE singer is Madame
F'lorelle. Are you proud of me?
"Yore Eileen
Was he proud of her, his pretty
Irish sweetheart from whom he had
parted in a green Galway lane two
years ago? Then she had voiced her
ambition to become a great singer
for she had a sweet voice and she
wanted to attain greatness of some
sort in order to be worthy of the
| high position that her future husband
would make for her in the new world.
A policeman cousin had written back
to the old home that there was no limit
to the power one might attain-and
Martin had declared when he kissed
Eileen goodby that one day he would
be mayor of New York cVity.
And Eileen had displayed as much
| ambition on her side. Il will be a
great opery singer" she promised.
Her letters from various European
cities had borne out this promise. His
Eileen was a great singer-he had read
her name in the newspapers and a
picture of her in a grand satin dress
was on his bureau.
Sitting there in the janttor's room OF
the Luxor apartments, the assistant
janitor chewed a panhandle and hav-
ing derived inspiration from its ragged
end, wrote long and laboriously:
New York City, Jan. Goth.
Darling EiIeen-Tis a proud man
am this day to get yure letter that yure
a crate singer. Being mayer of new
bad writing but me sikreterry is sick
with the meezles and me orf1s boy is
writing this because 1 have a soar
thum. Youres forever,
Martin Breen.''
Martin blushed at this lying epistle
as he held it gingerly in his fingers
on the way to the letter box in the
vestibule. Two years--and he had
climbed only as far as assistant jani-
tor!
What would Eileen say when she dis
covered his duplicity? He could not
bear to destroy her faith in him and
yet every day piled higher the noun
tain of deceit between them.
Next letter I'll tell her I'm a fail
ure-and a liar as never was!" he
promised hlmSeT as the letter slipped
through the opening.
He turned on the step to confront a
dapper little man.
81 am come to look at the suite en-
gagged for Madame F1oreIle," he said
with a glance at Martins trim uni
form.
"Who?' yelled Martin, aghast.
Madame F1orelle,'' returned the 9TH
er with a reproving glance. ''She has
engaged through me, her press agent,
rooms in this apartment hotel. She
sings next week in re Metropole. My
name is Bouchard-Paul Bouchard.
If you will show me re rooms -
Sure" said Martin. 1.-THE janitor
himself will be doing that, I'll call
him.
Martins life the next few days was
anything but happy. A dozen times
tribution that would overtake him
when Eileen arrived with her train of
servants. He heard all the details of
the expected arrival.
There were to be three servants
a lady's maid, man servant and
chauffeur, for the great singer would
bring her own motor car.
Holy saints, but can't stand look
ing in her clear eyes and have her
know me for liar, The groaned during
his sleepless nights. "I'u run away
must see her just once-and tell her
myself. I'll face her and tell her and
when Sno SCOTnS NELL go then
somewheres where there's a job for
a lying fool of an Irishman!"
Martin was in the subcelIars when
the singer and her suite arrived at the
Luxor. There had been trouble with
the furnaces, and there had been a
constant wall of protest from the ten
ants of the big building. 1t was grow
ing colder out now and something
must be DONE
The tenants were bombarding the
janitor and in his turn he passed the
blame along to Martin, who worked
like a beaver in the furnace rooms |
urging on the workmen to complete |
the job.
When the janitor went to supper !
Martin climbed up to the. office to take |
his place. He was hot and tired, and |
there were streaks of black on his |
countenance. For the moment he |
was trouble enough in the furnace |
room below.
A light step sounded behind him |
and he swung about to confront trim /
lady'S MAZDA vision in short black
gown, ruff1ed white apron and coQuet- |
fish cap on her golden hair.
When she saw his face the color |
went away from her cheeks and lips |
and she shrank back against the door |
Martin stared in his turn. Why /
was the great Nine. F1orelle masquer-
aiding as a lady's maid-un1ess she was
play acting?
Eileen was looking at his natty blue /
uniform with its gold braid, perhaps |
she overlooked the smirch of black /
on his cheek.
Martin she said. timidIy.
Then it is you. Eileen he said /
in a shamed tone you expected to