Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-02-16
Continued from page 6

INTO whose fortunes he mad 50 preClpllalely
Catapulted.
The woman was young with the youth of
her still peering from behind cloak of
WEAKNESS and worry. She did not have the
broken, heartless droop of one from whom
hope had passed so long that its memory
fingered not Werner thought, looking at
her as she fed the child, that she was not of
this life, that this experience was to her a
new one. There was about her the sugges-
ton Of fields and meadows and hills, of clear
brooks and blue skies, of singing birds and
glad hearts. And, turning to the man, it
seemed that he too was mlsfit here.
81 wish" said the woman suddenly, look
ing up, 81 wish that we had never left"
The man sat on the edge of the bed, lean
ing forward, his chin in his hand He did
not look up. The hopelessness had returned.
His shoulders sagged.
"Where?" asked Werner, leaning forward.
He had not spoken since entering the
room. The woman was piling up the dishes.
She did not seem surprised at the question.
Home she said simply. "We're not
city people. We're country folk. Nobody
ever gets hungry back there. Hungry
didn't know there was such thing. And
this morning when John left | was scared,
scared he wouldn't ever come back. He was
that desperate 1t was awful. Seemed as
though God had turned against us. John
was hating everything, even me and the boy
and Cod"
She sat on one of the straight backed
chairs. Tragedy had touched her; yet to
Werner it seemed that he had but brushed
her lightly with his mantle, grim tragedy of
heartbreaks and doubtings and hatreds.
Werner rose and touched the man on the
shoulder Together they left the room.
Down the dim stairs, through the dim halls,
out in the clear chill of the night, on to the
little shut-in park, and to the bench that
they had jointly occupied earlier in the even
ing, Werner led the way.
"You were right" he said at last, when
they were seated. al have got more money
than | need And | owe some of it to you.
owe it to you, suppose, as much as to any
living creature. | won't attempt to explain
why. But before l pay it to you, you must
promise me that you will take it and go back,
back to the place that she called home, where
the fields and woods are, and the plows and
barns and hayricks and all that. That's
where you belong, where happiness is. Take
the money and go back and forget all this,
and learn how to love all over again. I've
learned deal myself recently, and | know
it can be DONE"
He slipped his hand from his pocket and
handed the other a soft, sillzen mass. And
then, before the man could speak, he had
risen and was striding rapidly away.
I'M arrived at the Baldwin purposely late.
II He desired to tax to the utmost the
grouch's temper. 1t was almost nine o'clock
when he surrendered his coat and hat to the
cloak man, and sauntered into the great din
ing salon of the famous hotel. The table,
which had been reserved for him three days,
stood ready, with the two chairs tilted and
the attendant waiting with the emotionless
stolidity of his profession.
Enz lighted cigarette and slipped a cock
tail. Still the minutes dragged on. Nine
o'clock passed, and he had slipped three cock
tails and was lighting the fourth cigarette.
He began to wonder. With all his pessmism
and misanthropy, Werner was noted for his
social conscience and his promptness upon
all occasions. 1t was pulling.
The young German at length called the
waiter and gave the order. He gave it for