The Pulaskian., 1915-02-19

There are two ways of doing battle against disgrace. You may live it down; or you may run away from it and hide The first method is heart breaking, but sure. The second can- not be relied upon because of the un- comfortable way disgrace has of turn ing up at. your heels just when you think you have eluded her in the last town but one.
 Ted Terrill did not choose the first method He had it thrust upon him. After Ted had served his term he came back home to visit his mothers gMye, intending to take the next train out. He wore none of the prison pal Tor that you read about in books, be- eaHse- he had been sffortstop OH the penitentiary all-star baseball team, and famed for the dexterity with which he could grab up red-hot grounders. The storied lock step and the clipped hair effect also were missing. The super intendent of Teds prison had been one of the reform kind.
 You never would have picked Ted for criminal. He had none of those interesting chronological bumps and Impressions that usually are shown to such frank advantage in the Bertillon photographs. Ted had been assistant cashier in the Citizens National bank. In mad moment he had attempted little sleight-of-hand act in which cer- tain Citizens National funds were to be transformed into certain glittering shares and back again so quickly that the examiners couldn't follow it with their eyes. But Ted was unaccustomed to these now-you-see-it-and-now don't feats and his hand slipped. The trick dropped to the floor with an awful clatter
 Ted had been a lovable young kid, six feet high, and blond, with great reputation as dresser He had the first yellow plush hat in our town. It sat on his golden head like a halo. The women all liked Ted. Mrs. Dank- worth, the dashing widow (why will widows persist in being dashing ?, said that he was the only man in our town who knew how to wear a dress suit. The men were forever slap ping him on the back and asking him to have little something. Ted's good looks and his clever tongue and cer- tain charming Irish way he had with him caused him to be taken up by the smart set. Now, if you've never lived in small town you will be much amused at the idea of it's boasting a smart set Which proves your igno- rance. The small town smart set is deadly serious about it's smartness. It likes to take six-hour runs down to the city to fit a pair of shoes and hear Caruso. It's clothes are as we'll made, and it's scandals as crisp, and it's pace as hasty, and it's golf club as dull as the clothes and scandals and pace and golf club of it's city cousins.
 The hasty pace killed Ted. He tried to keep step in set of young folks whose fathers had made our town And all the time his pocketbook was yelling, "Whoa!" The young people ran largely to scarlet upholstered tour ing cars and country-club doings and house parties, as small town younger generations are apt to. When Ted went to high school half the boys in his little clique spent their after-school hours dashing up and down Main street in their big, glittering cars, sit ting slumped down on the middle of their spines in front of the steering wheel, their sleeves rolled up, their hair combed militant pompadour. One or the other of them always took Ted along. It is fearfully easy to de-