The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1914-11-05
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CHAPTER XXI.
From the Top Gallery.

he asked when an usher entered with
n telegram.
mo, sir; we're watching for him.
Nobody has seen him."
ASK him to come hero Us soon as
he arrives"
None of the employees of the Gotham
recognized man beside the stair OF
the upper gallery, where a steep iron
railing jutted out upon the side
street. The rain fell softly and he was
muff1ed to the chin in drab overcoat
"A felt hat was drawn over his eyes.
He emerged suddenly from the shadow
TO lay his hand upon the arm of
boy who went springing up the grated
stair.
Here, do you want to sell your
ticket for a dollar?" he asked.
Sure" cried the boy emphatically.
Say, mister, why don't We buy one
fer yerself? They're fifty cents, If
yet git In line at the window"
Il don't want to stand in line"
The boy thrust the slip of paste
board into Wentworth's hand, seized
the money, and fed to take his place
ct the end of the line which struggled
round the corner from Broadway.
Enoch waited until throng began
TO press it's way UP the steps. He
pulled his hat down close about his
forehead and the rim fell to his eyes.
When he reached out his hand to the
attendant at the door, the man did not
look at him; he was trying to stem
a tide of human beings and make GER
tain that each one had paid his way.
Wentworth moved inside the door
and glanced at the gray coupon, then
he passed to an end seat in the third
row. He laid his hat upon the floor,
pulled off his damp coat, and waited
for the curtain to rise. Although the
clatter of voices about him was insist
ent, he heard them like dull jargon.
Once he rose to allow two girls with
their escorts to pass, then seated him.
self again with his body hunched for
ward, watching the musicians Chamber
through low door below the stage.
The leader lifted his baton and the
overture began A man who pushed
unceremoniously past aroused Enoch
from his listless mood. He turned and
stared at girl who sat beside him.
The lines on her wan face we're etched,
not by the years she had lived, but
by a girlhood spent in airless places
amid the roar OF machinery.
He sat watching her with an impas-
sive stare. A dreamy look crept into
her face. The orchestra began to play
an inconsequential thing in which
there was the trip of dancing feet and
a sway Of 1.-THE bodies. He could see
the lines smoothing out in her care
worn face. Her ungloved fingers beat
time to the music with perfect rhythm.
Then her hand went out in an uncon-
sciouz caress to the thin, shabby lad
who sat beside her. He clasped it and
turned to her with an eager smile.
Wentworth sighed.
The curtain rose. People who sat
close under the roof listened with a
tense stiffness, which was never dis
turbe0 by the rustic that occasionally
ran through the orchestra The story
of the play had grown old, threadbare
and uninteresting to Wentworth, but
st moved these men and women to the
quick. During the first act the girl
beside him turned to her sweetheart
and spoke in a tremulous whisper:
"She's a cruel DEVIL"
Her eyes were bent with hatred and
scorn upon Zilla Paget, who stood
looking down at Merry. His guilt had
been discovered. He sat beside a table
with his face hidden in his out
stretched arms, while the wife hurled
upon him torrent of bitter contume-
ly. Once his body shook with a half
stified sob. Little Julie clasped his
hand, but her terrified eyes were
turned upon her mother. Wentworth
had seen the woman In a towering
passion; now she threw herself into
the fury OF her role as she had done
In real life. pacing the floor like a
Gagged tiger. She paused at Merry's
side half exhausted.
Think Of the child" he pleaded
niserably.
"The child-to perdition with the
child"
Into Enoch's memory leaped a scene
long forgotten. Upon the edge of a
battlefield, after a bloody encounter,
he had once been pressed into hos
pital service. Anesthetics were not
at hand and he had helped by main
strength to hold a mutilated soldier
while fha surgeon amnutatpd shat
tered bone. The agony of a groan,
which the man tried to stife, haunted
Wentworth for months. Some time
IN his life Merry must have heard
such sound and was repeating it.
Then the woman upon the stage
laughed.
Damn her!" whispered the lad, who
sat holding the girls hand.
Wentworth smiled absently. He
watched Dorcas make her entrance.
Something stately and high-mettled,
like an unconscious hauteur, had been
added to the dignity which was his
sister, great charm. This dignity con-
stantly put Zilla Paget at a disad-
vantage; she was coarsened by it, bru-
talized, and cheapened to a degree.
The contrast dawned quickly on a gal
lery audience.
"Ain't Miss Wentworth sweet?"
whispered the girl by his side.
SWEET" repeated her escort
She's a peg higher n sweet She's
game. game clear to the spine. The
rnor0vidn 4fddv'c a h111icar I'm ohico