The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1913-09-12

about it?" she softly interposed. THAT
| is wisest until my decision is made.
We were talking about Fran-do you
think this good opportunity for Mrs.
| Gregory to attend services? Fran can
stay with Mrs. Jefferson"
II have no doubt" he said, still agi-
tated, that my wife would find it easy
enough to go to church, If she really
wanted to CO."
"Mr. Gregory" she reproved him.
WELL" he cried, somewhat defiant
ly, don't you think she could go. If
she wanted to-"
WELL" Grace answered slowly,
this girl will leave her without any
ANY excuse" 20
ooh, Miss Grace, If my wife were
| only-like you'll mean, about going
| to church,"
81 consider it." she responded, 1.-The
most important thing in the world"
| Her emphatic tone proved her sim
| cerity. The church on Walnut street
| stood, for her, as the ark; those who
remained outside, at the call of the
bell, were in danger Of engulfment.
After a long silence, Grace looked
| up from her typewriter. "Mr. Greg
ory," she said pausingly, you are I'M
happy"
Nothing could have been sweeter to
him than her sympathy, except happi-
ness itself. YES" he admitted. with
a great sigh, 81 am very unhappy, but
you understand me, and that is little
| comfort. If you should marry Bob
Clinton-Grace, tell me you'll not
think of it again"
And you are unhappy" said Grace,
steadfastly ruling Bob Clinton out of
| the discussion, ION account of Fran"
He burst forth mpulsively-"Ever
since she came to town." He checked
himself. But l owe it to my friend
to shelter her. She wants to stay and
and she'll have to, If she demands
it."
do you owe more to your dead
friend" Grace asked, with passionate
solemnity, than to the living God?"
He shrank back But l can't send
her away" he persisted in nervous
haste. II can't. But heaven bless you.
Grace, for your dear thought of me. "
You will bless me with more rea-
son." said Grace softly, when Fran
decides to 60 away She'll tire of this
house, promise it. She'll go-just
wait!-shell 60, as unceremoniously
as she came. Leave it to me, Mr.. Greg
ory." In her earnestness she started
up, and then, as if to conceal her
growing resolution, she walked swiftly
to the window as if to hold her manu-
script to the light. Gregory followed
her.
"If she would only go!" he groaned.
Grace! Do you think you could IT,
Yes, l will leave everything to you"
She'll CO." Grace repeated fixedly.
The window at which they stood
overlooked the garden into which Fran
had wheeled old Mrs. jefferson.
Fran, speaking through the ear
trumpet with as much caution as deaf
ness would tolerate, said, Dear old
lady, look up at the library window,
if you please, for the muezzin has
climbed his minaret to call to prayers"
Very little of this reached it's desti-
nation-mueZzin was in great danger
of complicating matters, but the old
lady caught library window" and held
it securely. She looked up. Ham
ilton Gregory and Grace Noir were
standing at the tower window, to
catch the last rays of the sun. The
flag of truce between them was only
a typewriter sheet of manuscript
Grace held the paper obliquely toward
the west; Hamilton leaned nearer and,
with his delicate white finger, pointed
out a word. Grace nodded her head
in gentle acquiescence.
Amen" muttered Fran Nov let
everybody sing!"
The choir leader and his secretary
vanished from sight.
Just like the play in Hamlet" Fran
said half-aloud. And now that the
inside play is over, l guess it's time
for old Ham to be doing something"
Mrs. Jefferson gripped the arms of
her wheel-chair and resumed her tale,
as if she had not been interrupted. 1t
was of no interest as story, yet POS
sessed a sentimental value from the
fact that all the characters save the
raconteur were dead, and possibly all
but her forgotten. Fran loved to hear
the old lady evoke the shades of LONG