The Madison daily leader. [volume] (Madison, S.D.) 1890-current, 1914-01-14

getting up the IRE stairs leading
from the sidewalk into the ground floor
hall, he caught a word or two Of thick,
congratulatory talk.
"'Sh'ou Joy. oil man." was the most
frequent OF the crowding, earnest
words.
What could 1t mean?
AS he heard the elevator door close
and the swift swish of the ascending
car, Rankin withdrew to the apart.
ment, there to linger, waiting for his
master, consumed with carefully mas
tered curiosity.
Devoured with curiosity he stood
waiting as his master entered through
+, the outer door which he CONSIDERABLY
had left ajar for him. He had guessed
at certain details of his young employ
er's probable condition and knew that
In the midst of just those details
Broadway was impatient of latch-keys,
bellringing or even knuckle-tapping on
the door.
The first thing he noted as the un-
steady Broadway entered was the fact
that his silk hat had been reversed up
on his head; the second was that
someone evidently had been sitting on
his raglan cape while 1t had been
rolled rather carelessly; the third was
that his face wore an expression of re.
lief and peace with all the world.
Not so u~nsteadily that he failed en-
tirely to reach the goal Jackson tackled
across the room and found the win
dow. His friendly escort was still evil
IDENTIFY In his mind, for from the open
window he now waved a genial hand
kerchief, whispering meanwhile
"Night-night," as IL the hearty spirit
which induced the words would take
them to the sidewalk ten score feet be
low.
Having performed this sacred rite
OF friendship he ~regained the center of
the room, looked about him as IL curl
ously, and then vent ~unsteadily to the
grand piano, upon which he placed his
elbow with a nesting search for COM
fort which seemed to indicate a firm
J decision to lean against the instrument
and go to sleep without delay. This
would never do, for when his slumber
became deep he would be sure to lose
! his balance. Rankin saw the deep ne.
cessity for rousing him from his inten-
| ton.
Mr.. Jones, Mr.. JONES'" he urged,
tapping him upon the shoulder.
Jackson looked up, ~sleepily, as II as.
tonished at the interruption of his
slumbers. Hello" he said good ma
turedly, who's there?'
TITS Rankin. SIR said Rankin.
who's Rankin, sir?'" The one was
that of tolerant curiosity to learn a to-
tai strangers unimportant identity.
I'm the butler, sir"
Butler"
Yes. Mr.. Jones; the butler"
This seemed to rouse his master and
he looked him over with some show of
interest "A butler!" he exclaimed in
tones of deep reproach. Aren't you
ashamed of yourself? When you were
a little boy your mother had great
hopes of you-thought you were going
to be president of the United States,
or something like that"
Rankin bowed impassively; he did
not deny 1t.
Now" said his employer with the
deepest Of reproach, you've disappoint-
ed everybody. You've turned out to be
nothing but a butler. You ought to be
ashamed of YOURSELF"
Rankin was not offended; instead
his air was that OF triumph. "Ah. but
see who's butler | am, sir!" he ex-
claimed.
Who's butler are your inquired
Broadway. apparently with idlest curl
osity.
I'm your butler, SIR
"Oh, you're my butler" This seemed
not to be especially astonishing,
though deeply interesting to the mas
ter of the house.
Yes. SIR"
Broadway looked at him with a glad
smile, then with an earnest and enthu-
5iastic gravity. He warmly shook his
hand. Il congratulate you, Rankin.
I'm very fond Of my butler" His sen.
timent rose higher and he patted Ran
kin on the cheek. Il love my little but
Ter. You u come out with me some
night. Rankin"
Il should like to, sir" said Rankin
%truthfully.
Broadway became gay, mysterious.
He looked at Rankin slyly and himself
essayed to whistle some bars of the
wedding march. II know something
you don't know" he cried %irrelevantly.
Rankin listened with respect and
close attention. His curiosity was al.
most painful.
But his master did not satisfy it.
Nov I'll bid you goodnight, Rankin.
Nightie. nightie!" Genially he waved
his hand at him, laughed. whistled an
other bar or two and deliberately made
the starboard tack toward the door of
his bedroom.
Rankin made no protest; he knew
better. when do you wish to be
called, sir?"
"Oh. that's 80, I must be called" his
master granted after a seconds deep
and serious thought. Then, in a deep
study: Nov, let me ~see-when do I
wish to be called? What day Is it,
D.u 1t ~