Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1913-08-08

light in the yard.
CHAPTER XII
The Angels Appear.
It was ten o'clock, and, though Sun.
day, Mr.. Curran was running off the
last of the handbills for the A. o. u
w. ball, kicking the tread with his
foot, inserting the paper with his right
hand, and withdrawing 1t with his left
The rhythm of the press c!ank was as
exact as this hift Of his body as he
thought of the day-some day or 9th.
er-when the News could afford to put
in a motor for this drudgery. The cur.
tains were drawn, for 1t would cost
advertising If the church people saw
him kicking the press on Sunday night
He hummed an old melody, for Wiley
was always happy when he worked
whatever his shift of fortune-it was
brain-clearing. and the clank Of the
old machine always soothed. UP ovel
the dusty front windows he saw the
tops Of the trees in the square silvered
by the moon, and the weather-vane or
the county building. Sunday nights the
square lay in deep peace-only the Gem
Restaurant. Home Cooking-Chica-
go Style" was lighted, save for the blur
Of the bank window where an incan-
descent showed the vault front to Mar
shal Bee II he chanced to be out OF
bed
He was distinctly surprised to have
Aurelie come in-and yet not surpris-
ed; he had a notion that he must
have been thinking of her. He rubbed
his inky hands on a spoiled handbill
and took hers. "Why. Aurelie!" He
looked over her dress with its girdle OF
sugar leaves. Been moon-gazing ur
on Eagles Point again?"
Il ran off," she answered, and sat
down with sigh. He saw a quiver on
her features-a grimace as If she want
ed to cry and would not. Seems like
nothing but trouble comes of it all, Mr.
Curran!"
Ran off?" He smiled. Not very far
Aurelie; and I'm glad you ran to me-!
"Oh, Mr.. Curran-don't make a joke
of it! Poor little Peter was so scared
had a quarrel and left everybody
and I'm not going back. And 1 just
came to you, for you're the only friend
I've got"
Il hope am one, anyhow" The edi-
tor nodded his young old head. Some
how, I expected you'd have trouble
John-when he heard Of it,"
What hurts me is Uncle Michigan
He can't hardly get about any more
And it will. just kill him."
Wen fix 1t up, Aurelie. You stay
with us here, for a bit, and Uncle
Michigan can hobble down. How's the
leg%
THE wooden ones all right, but he's
got rheumatism in the other one. Mr.
Curran"-she sat forward Frightening
and unfolding her hand, dropped a Bit
of crushed paper on the table-"there's
the prize! A check-one hundred dol
lars!"
One hundred dollars! And she had
never possessed two in her whole life
The editor sat staring at 1t. Poor little
prize!
IT'S a shame" muttered Mr.. Cur
ran-"they ought to give you million
But it's just a newspaper graft to work
up circulation. Just advertising. Au-
relic. They think the glory is enough
for you"
II don't want any glory. I want q
cork leg-for Uncle Michigan. Like the
one in the catalogue Hen McFetridge
gave him. Do cork legs cost hun
dred dolars?"
81 think so. One Of those legs that
bend and twist and seem as good as &
meat one-yes. sir. I'm afraid they do
Aurelie."
you put this check away, Mr.. Cur.
ran. And I'm a-goin on the stage ant
save up my money and buy Uncle
Mich the best leg there is anywhere.
The editor folded up the beauty prize
He put it in his pocketbook with
sigh. I've not seen so much money II
i don't know when! It's just gram
| of you, Aurelie, to think of Uncle Mich
And so you're really going on the
stage?"
II guess so. I'm sick Of everything
The letters get, and all this publicity
its just upset me, Mr.. Curran. Ant
Harlan. he went away"-she looked of
-"and left me-"
Mr.. Curran sighed. For his life HI
could not have asked her further, bu
with an instinct for her underflow o
| trouble, he knew. Youth was not 81
far away from him-nay, it was cry
ing in his heart! He wished guiltil!
she would say more of this amazing
| summer romance. He loved Harlan q!
he had loved few.
Sometime I'll tell you." she wen
on; but now I just want you to tel
me what to do"
About going on the stage?"
| Yes"
| Wiley rubbed his head. What h
knew of the stage was not much. Il sup
pose you must do something. And th'
McFetridge boys-well, honestly.
think they're straight, down in thei
hearts. They're pretty near impossi
BILE and rough. maybe-but some way
| I don't think bad of EN-" Mr.. Curral
| never thought bad of any one, evel
| Old Thad. He was always apologiZin,
| for Old Thad to Arne Vance's denun
| Citations. And l can't blame you, Au
| relie"-he looked off above the silen
park-'the towns no place for you
! perhaps for no one who's young ant