Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1913-07-31

, Perhaps you've never worked In q
book bindery,' she said, "and don't
guess you have. And perhaps, too,
you've never been hoping and hoping
that your lead was right. only to be
assured day after day that you
were on the wrong trail. That was
my situation. Clayton Rogers was
flirt. A pretty woman, to him, was
the only thing In the world. More than
once in the days that followed my en-
trance to the bindery | allowed myself
to smile at him out of the corner of
an eye, but never a glance returned.
| turned to the other employees.
II learned that, as far as they knew,
he was a young farmer from Franklin
county who had just come to the city
to learn the book binding trade. He
was sober. He was Industrious. He
was quiet. The real Clayton Rogers
was none Of these three. 1t began to
impress me more and more that l was
tracking the wrong man.
"'When did he come here?' l asked
OF the girl who was giving me the In
without knowing why, Of
course
"A month ago. came the answer.
"A month ago! That was exactly a
week after Rogers had fed Chicago
"'Where from?'
"Labaddie'
THAT night l boarded train for
the small Missouri town. The next
afternoon l was back at my work,
with a bit Of reinsurance In my heart.
At least, Labaddie did not possess
young man of his appearance and of
the name by which he was entered on
the books Of the company. | smiled at
him again that day as he passed from
his work to get drink Of water. My
was gazing at me.
"'You weren't at work this morn
ing he said gravely.
"I was H. | answered as inno-
Gently as could. and looked down at
my work again.
He passed on, and my best wishes
went with him. for | knew that 1t
would not be long before found out
whether or not | was trailing a man
had recognized from a picture twelve
years old. We met to speak few
words the next day-the next and
the next
"One night he took me to a vaude-
vile show and then escorted me to
the little room had rented-and
there left me to wonder and wonder
again IL l was not wrong. II this man
was Clayton Rogers he had changed
every tlament of his character.
Grave. thoughtful, polite. he was diff
ferent from the man who had been
described to me and who had spent
$4,000 among the white lights of Chi.
cago. And yet--'
There was a little pause while Miss
Clement watched the sober yet happy
faces of two lovers across the velvet
lawn.
And YETI" prompted.
"And yet even as he told about his
home life, as he described the country
around Labaddie, the house, every
thing, | remembered what the people
there had said | must be on the
right track! sat alone in my room
that night, trying to dissect his every
action, to see behind his every move,
and failed. | knew that 1t would have
been possible for q mistake in Labad-
die, and yet felt that / was sure Of
everything had learned there. I had
three weeks more in which to work.
determined to make the most of 1t.
1T was a few nights after that that
Mr.. Henderson (that was the name on
the company's books) asked me once
more to go to the theater with him.
And that night as we stood by my
door to say goodby, he paused.
"'Miss wilson, he began calling me,
Of course, by my assumed name. I
know you'll think It's forward of me
and all that, but there's something
can't hold back from you any longer.
l.
my heart jumped.
"'You are a gentleman answered
him. I have seen nothing forward In
your actions
"I have tried to be a gentleman,
he answered, simply for the reason
that since the first moment saw you
in the shop, l fell in love with you.
Some way, you don't look like the or.
dinary girl who works In bindery
shop. There's something better about
you, something more refined. I hope
you're not angry
why should l bel? l questioned
seriously. /
miss wilson, He had stepped to-
ward me anxiously.
Il put him off.
"'It is not love on my part an
swered. 4 think great deal of you,
Mr.. Henderson, but l cannot say that
love you-yet.'
But there is hope? he asked with
a queer little pang in his voice.
In time l answered.
He left. And then / went into my
room to mentally becudgel myself for
not having pulled everything from him
while his heart was warm with excite
ment, when his lips would have been
willing to speak of everything, to con-
fess everything walked the floor
and scowled at myself in the mirror.
l saw, all too late, a thousand ways in
which | might have drawn from him,
every truth Of his identity. I could
have played him. could have forced