The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1914-04-15
p x.

There was another than the foreman
who was happier than ordinary words
would have expressed, now that Jack
son Jones had. stated, with what
seemed to be f1nality, that he intend
ed to continue at the business which
had made his fortune and had made
Jonesville.. But Josie felt a strange
need for reserve in her young employ,
er's presence, a need which she had
not felt the night before and n which
she could not explain.
Her impulse was to rush into ex.
travagance of praise after he had sent
the foreman out into the works to tell
the men, that he should not sell his
patrimony to the trust, but for some
reason, which she would have found 1t
difficult to explain fully she said not a
word about it. Instead, she turned to
him with matter-of-fact expression and
the words Of commonplace occasions.
Did you have a good nights rest"
He felt like saying something full
Of emphasis, whether In access Of JOY
or sorrow he was not certain, but he
knew that any words which he could
use to her would be inadequate to fur
nish him relief, and so hailed her com
monplace question with a thrill Of real
relief. .....
my back Is broken" he said with an
expressive grimace and a writhe'
WHO named that hotel?" q,
"The Grand?"
He nodded with another serlo-comic
facial antic.
She laughed. "Is it as bad as that?'
There are men in prison for doing
less than running a hotel like that
Almost he made the revelation of their
startling midnight wanderings, but
caught himself in time.
why don't you open your uncle's
homer"
MY uncle's homer" he said, a, little
startled.
He had not thought Of that. The
suggestion probably did more to drive
home definitely to his inner mind the
true significance of his decision to
take up the business than anything
which had previously occurred. His
uncle's home!
After his fathers death 1t had been
his home; 1t had been the only semb
lance Of a home which he remembered
and his memories of it were harsh
enough, in some details almost repel
lent. His uncle had been hard; he had
had but little understanding Of boy ma
ture; the house had been a sort Of
prison from which he could escape al
intervals each day.
He had not even thought Of opening
it; 1t never had occurred to him that
he could ever live another day of his
life there.
But, now she spoke Of it, why not:
The place was grim, old-fashioned, in
hospitable, %forbidding, as so many old
New England houses are, and as sc
many more New England houses were
ten years ago; but that atmosphere
was more that Of its occupant than
that of the old place itself. 1t must
have been a joyous and free-minded
Jones who chose the site for 1t, for II
was very beautiful; it must have been
an artist Jones who chose the plans
for 1t, for its design was Of that beau,
tiful, pure old colonial which (barring
skyscrapers) is the only architectural
merit America has yet originated, and
than which nothing is more truly
beautiful; it must have been a social
Jones who added the great wing to it
for in that wing were bedrooms, sit.
ting rooms, and a great dining-room
quite plainly meant to welcome many
guests.
His memories of the house were
gloomy and ~unattractive, for from II
both his father and his mother had
been taken to their final resting places,
and in it he had spent few joyous
hours. All the happiness Of his youth
in Jonesville were associated with the
homes Of others, public places, out-of.
doors; he had heard very little laugh.
ter in the old homestead. But might ii
not belse happiness? He realized that
it " aid make an ideal setting for
pure Joy. Still, 1t was In Jonesville!
That made him vince.
You don't think 1t will be necessary
for me to live in this town, do you?"