Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1913-03-01

from the end on the left; some
peacherino, ehP and nothing brazen
about her either. Wonder if that
mousey little manner is natural. Oh,
you needn't grin--I'd say the same
to my wife, if she was here, for my
smashes arc harmless. But just you
look at that kiddie."
Harland took the glasses mechan-
ically from his friends hand, and
the next moment found himself gaz-
ing straight at--Lillianl Stage
paint, a blonde wig, and a peasant
costume could not disguise her. His
involuntary start filed Sam with
glee. "Ahal r. he whispered, wasn't
l right?"
Harland controlled himself enough
to nod and smile indifferently, and
then, the glasses still at his eyes,
feigned a deliberate examination of
the entire cast, to give himself time.
The rest of the evening was dream,
for he saw only one girlish figure,
one shy, appealing face.
How young she looked, and how
artlessl Was she happy 1t seemed
to him that he must find out, at any
cost. She did not see him until just
at the last, when the finale lined up
the chorus at the front of the stage.
Then, as she caught sight of his set
face, she faltered, and he saw the
girl next to her slip a half-support-
ing arm about her, as though it we're
part of the business of the scene.
Luckily, Sam was following the roll
licking march with eyes and ears,
and did not note his agitation, and
as they left the theater Harland was
able to explain quite calmly that
he had decided to go home by the
midnight train, "and many thanks,
old chap, for jolly lark" he added,
disappearing before his bewildered
friend could protest.
Would she never emerge from the
stage door, the man wondered, wait
ing in the shadow; had she gone al
ready, determined to evade him ? No,
here she was He stepped forward,
with formal greeting, for there were
spectators; but as their eyes met
great wave Of relief swept over him,
for surely he saw gladness in her
weary little face.
"This way, l have a cab," he sug-
gested softly, and she clutched his
arm with nervous fingers, and hur-
ried with him around the corner. In
the shelter of the cab, on the way to
the station, he tried to comfort her,
as she put her head down on his
shoulder like a penitent child, and
whispered her remorse. cit was my
fault, too, DEAR" he assured her; 81
see it now, plainly enough. But we'll
start fresh, won't we? And if you
really love the stage so, we'll try"
She put shaky hand over his lips.
Don't, Jimsie I've had my les
son: You know l used to be wild
for a career, and when II fell in
love with you instead, I couldn't
quite get rid of hateful little I'M
dercarrent of feeling that somehow
it was your fault, especially when
you took it for granted that we'd be
so happy in little place like Rear
don"
''You needn't stay there any more;
we'll move tomorrow he assured
her, but again she stopped him.
'Wait, dear I've tried stage life,
and 1 hate it Oh, don't look fierce,
Jimsie; they were good sort in that
company, and every ones been kind
and decent to me. But my voice
only just passed the test; 1 couldn't
act, and it was perfectly plain to me
that l could never be anything but
just a little also-ran in the chorus.
And it was hard work, and l was
homesick for my own dear, beautiful
homeland, most of all, for you,
Jimsiel Only l was too proud to
come back when you mightn't want
me- No, we won't move to town;
I've had enough city for a while.
And just want to be a common,
garden villager, Jimsie, instead Of
a stage onep
| WILL BREAK EVEN