Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1915-02-26
6be
Comforter
Whats the Use of Worry
ing7"
By EDWARD HOLLYWOOD
Copyright by Frank A. Munsey Co.
By EDWARD


In the kitchen beneath Jernigan's
bedroom the clock whirred and began
to sound the hour. At the first jan
Cling stroke J~ernigan lifted his head
and became aware. with a quick throb
of gratitude. that he had been asleep.
The question was. for how long?
There was no daylight at the curtained
window, but he was sure that it must
be nearly sunrise. and in alert anxiety
he counted the strokes of the clock.
Nine, ten. eleven-and silence. Jer-
nigan groaned YEARLY. He had been
in bed only thirty minutes, after all.
Through the doorway of the adjoin-
ing room, where his wife slept with
the two children, he blinked at the
white, dim hummock of Lizzie's back
and listened to her placid breathing.
Noiselessly he drew on some clothes,
found a pair of slippers and glided
swiftly down the dark stairway.
With a hand on the knob of the
front door he turned and peered into
his narrow parlor. The blue glare
from an arc lamp in the street family
illuminated the parlor table. revealing
the bank book on it and his private
account book and the sheets of paper
covered with penciled figures. He has
lilly secreted them before he went out
Of doors.
Jernigan was the b~ookkeeper for Mr..
Ellice at the Rudale mill, as his father
had been before him. He was a skill
ed and honest accountant. The tor
menting figures had nothing to do with
his employers affairs. They repre-
scented his own endeavor to deal with
the terrible fact that during the past
two years he had diminished by nearly
$1,000 the modest capital which he
had inherited from his parents.
He looked morosely down the desert
ed street toward the huge mill. It's
windows glowed; it's looms chanted
their endless. sonorous hymn Of pros
perity. On a hill near by was the state
ly. old fashioned Ellice mansion. with
its tall columns of white stone. Mr..
Ellice was evidently entertaining an
evening party there. The lamps of
motorcars shot their golden beams over
the lawn. and Jernigan heard a va
grant strain of dance music.
His vague plan was to stroll as far
as the office of the mill before turning
back.
Behind the building he halted in be-
wilderment. A light cleaned from a
real window. Somebody was in the
office!
Now, it was impossible for Jernigan
to believe that any n had rightful
business there by night without his
knowledge, so be crept close to the
window. He saw a man standing be-
side the Office table. On the table were
books of account and sheets of paper
covered with penciled figures. The
man bent over them, then paced the
room, then returned doggedly to the
table. then paced the room again. Jer-
nigan caught his breath, for the man
was John Ellice.
The ~bookkeeper stared. as If in a
theater. at a counterfeit presentment
of himself pacing his own parlor. Ell
Ices unbuttoned coat showed a loose
pajama jacket; he wore slippers. and
his hair was ruffled like that of n
driven from his bed. His face. as he
bent at the table under the light.
was drawn and white. ,
Jernigan interpreted the picture
| swiftly. Indeed. there was only a sin
| gle possible meaning for him. and this
was a meaning which swept every
thing else out of his simple soul as a
gigantic and appalling torrent sweeps
a humble valley. The sight of an Ell
lice of Rudale in the torment of finan-
cial worry was to a Jernigan what the
sight of a collapse of the great pyra-
mid would have been to al ancient
Egyptian. Other affairs, of life for Jer-
nigan were totally obliterated by awe
stricken CONSERVATION and a sympathy
almost reverent.
>
Ellice snapped off the electric lamp,
pushed the papers into a drawer of the
table and locked it. He decided that
his daughters dance would be over,
and he wondered if he could sleep.
Then he smiled grimly, knowing well
enough that it was not dance music
which had kept him awake. His neck
contracted sharply, as IL something
was perched on his shoulder.
His thoughts whirled back to the pa
pers in the table drawer. Had he for
gotten to jot down the loan from the
Samson Trust? OF course he had. He
began to compute the interest for the
coming term. And what, in heavens
name, would be his next months bal
nee with the Atlas people? True, he
might tide ove this year, but He
threw open the outer door with a ges-
ture of hopeless desperation and de-
scended the stems. e :