Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-06-17
THE EVENING STORY.
The Point of View.


Copyright 1913, by W. WcrneT)
1t was only when she stepped of the
train in front of the little red depot in
the country town where she was reared
that Geraldine Kelly realized how vain
is success. In the big city that is spread
out by the lake she earned a salary
that for newspaper woman was con-
sidered mighty by the men who worked
beside her. She often had the honor of
being pointed out in restaurants to folks
who stared interestedly. She knew that
she was an unusually keen. well poised
woman to whom success was SO assured
that it no longer awed her
But when she put foot to the old coun-
try platform success dropped away and
she could not hold it. To the towns
people there she was simply Jerry Kelly,
the queer daughter of shiftless old jim
Kelly, who was constable because no
one else cared for the tritiing JOB and
who Chewed tobacco and dragged out a
lazy. comfortable existence with Jerry s
stepmother in a shabby cottage at the
edge of town. OF course, people knew
that Jerry worked in a newspaper office
they had an impression that she set
type or ran errands for the editor They
looked at her chic tailormade suits
curiousy. She looked nice. of course, in
spite of her age-She must be all of thir-
ty-but, for goodness sake, why did she
wear such awful pla n clothes? Living In
a city, too, where things were cheap.
But then she was Jim l\elly's daughter
and couldn't be expected to know how
to dress. Every one spoke to her kindly
when they met her on Main street
hadn't they known her since she was a
baby?-but no one came to call. except
one or two girls who had been of her own
station twelve years before and whom
she now pitied infinitely. with their Stat
ternly clothes and numerous children.
s,,+S ,%alx- rig hnu
inwardly amused to know that they. in
turn, pitied her for her work-filled life
and lack of rs-a-week hus-
band and homework.
And she didn't care in the least what
people thought Of her or her clothes.
She came back once q year to spend
week with her shiftless but good-natured
father. who Dragged of her necessarily.
But no one listened to his Dragging and
didn't believe him when he told the
amount on the checks that she sent him
regularly. Her stepmother was color
less amiable person-not much, or she
wouldn't have married old Jim Kelly.
But Geraldine liked her. in spite Of the
fact that the week got longer each year.
She didn't care until one summer when
she met Robert Arnold on Main street.
He held out both hands in great surprise.
and she learned that he was spending
two days with President Wilson Of the
City Bank. whom he had known years
before in a little jerkwater college in
Ohio.
Il will see you. I suppose. this even
ing" he said casually, when he had
walked down the street with her and she
had turned into the post office.
For the first time Geraldine rebelled at
the small esteem in which she was held.
She was a broad-mfnded woman. far too
immersed in her work to care for trifles,
such as being omitted from a reception
which small town social leader was CIV
ing. But Robert Arnold, a coworker in
Chicago newspaperdom, was one Of the
few people in the world who really mat
tered to her 1t was humiliating for him
to learn. Would he understand? Or would
he infer that her people were criminals
instead of merely poor and indolent?
NO she said quietly. q" she hes
itated, laughed and then said frankly, eft