The Ely miner., 1913-07-25
EN- thousand dollars a year!

~ WI uSSuleSS Ol Sloppy pave
0 ments; the gray day had
suddenly turned gold. He
could not realize it all at once; ten
thousand year-for him and Edith!
His heart swelled with love Of Edith;
she had sacrificed so much to become
the wife of a man who had tried to
make an artist of himself, and Of
whom fate, or economic determinism,
or something, had made cartoonist.
What a surprise for her! He must
hurry home.
In the swelling of his heart he felt
love not only of Edith but of the
whole world. The people he met
seemed dear to him; he felt friendly
with every one, and beamed on perfect
strangers with broad, cheerful smiles.
He stopped to buy some flowers for
Edith -daffodils, or tulips, which
promised spring, and he took the daffo-
dis, because the girl said:
Il think yellow is such spirituelle
color, don't your" and inclined her
head in most artistic manner.
Dul tduoullS, dllSI dll, "Oulo
have been much the day before, SEEM
ed insufficient in the light of new pros
perity, and Kittrell bought a large
azalea, beautiful in it's graceful spread
of pink blooms.
Where shall l send it," asked the
girl, whose cheeks were as pink as
azaleas themselves.
Il :hink I'll call cab and take it to
her myself" said Kittrell.
And she sighed over the romance Of
this rich young gentleman and the girl
of the azalea, who, no doubt, was as
beautiful as the young woman who
was playing Lottie, the Poor Sales
lady ct the Lyceum that very week.
Kittrell and the azalea bowled along
Claybourne avenue; he leaned back on
the cushions, and adopted the express
sion of ennui appropriate to that thor
oughfare Would Edith now prefer
Claybourne Avenue? With ten thou
sand a year they could, perhaps-and
yet, at first it would be best not to
put on airs, but to go right on as they
z,
came to him that now, as the cartoon
ist I'm the Telegraph, his name would
become as we'll known in Claybourne
Avenue as it had been in the homes
of the poor and humble during his
years on the Post. And his thoughts
flew to those homes where tired men
at evening looked for his cartoons
and children laughed at his funny pic
lures. 1t gave him a pang; he had
felt subtle bond between himself and
all those thousands who read the
Post 1t was hard to leave them. The
Post might be yellow, but, as the girl
had said, yellow was spirituelle color,
and the Post brought something into
their lives-lives that were scorned
by the Telegraph and by these people
on the avenue. Could he make new
friends here, where the cartoons he
drew and the Post that printed them
had been contemned, if not despised?
His mind flew back to the dingy Of
flee of the Post; to the boys there, the
whole good-natured, happy-go-lucky
gang; and to Hardy-ah, Hardly
who had been so good to him, and CIV
en- him his big chance, had taken such
pains and interest, helping him with
ideas and suggestions, criticism and
sympathy. To tell Hardy that he was
going to leave him, here on the eve
of the campaign-and Clayton, the
mayor, he would have to tell him, too
oh, the devil! Why must he think
of these things now?
After all, when he had reached
home. and had run upstairs with the
news and the azalea, Edith did not
seem delighted.
But, dearie, business is business" I"
he argued. 'and we need the money!"
Yes, know; doubtless you're right.
Only please don't say business is bust
ness;' 1t isn't like you, and"
But think what it will mean-ten
thousand year,"
"Oh, Neil, I've lived on ten thousand
a year before, and never had half the
fun that had when we were getting
along on twelve hundred"
Yes, but then we were always
dreaming of the day when I'd make q
lot; We lived on that hope, didn't we?'
Edith laughed. You used to say
we lived on love-"
You're not serious" He turned to
gaze moodily out of the window. And
then she left the azalea, and perched
on the fat arm of his chair.
Dearest" she said, II am serious
/ know all this means to you We're
human, and we don't like to chip at
crusts like Hindus,' even for the sake
of youth and art. / never had illu-
sions about love in cottage and all
that. Only, dear, l have been happy,
so very happy, with you, because
we'll because l was living in an atmo-
sphere NJ honest purpose, honest ambi-
ton, and honest desire to do some
good thing in the world. / had never
known such an atmosphere before. At
home, you know, father and Uncle
James and the boys-well, it was all
money, money, money with them, and
they couldn't understand why +"
Gould marry poor newspaper ar
tist! That's just the point"
She put her hand to his lips.
Now dear. If they couldn't under.
stand, so much the worse for them.
If they thought it meant sacrifice to
me, they were mistaken. I have been
happy in this fat; only" she leaned
back and inclined her head with her
eyes asquint-"only the paper in this
room is atrocious; it's typical land
lords selection-McGraw picked it out.
You see what it means to be merely
rich"