Newark evening star and Newark advertiser., 1915-11-06
Evening Star 5
Daily Story
ONLY A ROSE
ny DOROTHY BLAoKMoRE.

man seated among a litter of manu-
scripts, "how do you like my gown
R2ul Kennard looked up and at his
sard. She ioohed he nothing 81
much as a gray dove tiuttering there
in the doorway. She had reached her
eighteenth birthday but her golden
curls were still tied at the nape of
her neck. Her coloring was dainty
and accented by the deep crimson of
her lips: lips so crimson that not for
the first time Kennard realized that
the hearts of men would be set to
beating by the lure in Nancy Vale
lie smiled a trifie drly at the thought
A second later his arms were ex-
tended.
You do like it-then?" Nancy ques-
toned from the depths of his arms.
She reached out and extracted a
solitary pink rose that had lent its
beauty to his writing table. II think
need this in my hair" she said, and
tucked the flower among the riot of
golden eurls. After his smile of ap-
proval she skipped off. It was quite
time for the first guest to arrive for
her coming-ou party.
Kennard watched her go and sighed
a trifie wearily. He wished that he
did not have to join the crowd of
friends who were coming to welcome
his ward into the world of society.
His story, the one lying beside him,
was progressing satisfactorily. He
wanted to finish it before daylight.
Paul kennard was old beyond his
thirty-five years In that he had, at the
age OF twenty7one, gone through a
fr1ghtful train wreck which left him
mentally aged and physically lame.
The horror and suffering he had wit
Eessed in those few appalling hours
robbed him forever of the sense of
youth. His life since that time had
been devoted to acts of human kind
ness and the pursuit of literature.
At twenty-five his closest friend,
older by many years than Kennard,
had died. leaving a slim, delicate girl
orphaned and oddly alone in the
world Nancy Vale the beautiful
maiden who had capturel the rose
from his writing table TO put among
Der golden curls. was that orphaned
girl. Kennard had adopted her be-
cause Vale had left her to him.
Il am going to join her mother"
Vale had said a few days before his
death. Take care of her, Paul. Nanny
and will try to help you from the
other world--if such a thing is pos
sible.s"
So Paul Kennard had been "Nunky"
TO Nancy Vale for ten years-ten years
that had been filed with complete joy
both to the growing girl and The
lame. thoughtful Kennard.
Some man will get q treasure he
often told himself, and as she fitted
out of the doorway ready to enter
that world Of men he prayed that the
lucky one might be worthy. clean and
upright. After that Kennard became
engrossed in his story.
The doorbeH rang many times and
men and women fiocked into the great
Kennard drawing-room where Nancy,
looking not more than fifteen in her
simple gray frock. welcomed her
guests. Often her eyes glanced swift
/, W at the stairs leading from the Ii
brary, but each time they returned to
smilest and laughter with a hint Of
wistfulness growing in their clear
depths, sNunky''5 was so absorbed In
his story as to forget that be had
promised to come in and join her
party. Nancy, too, was wise beyond
her years; otherwise she would have
rlIgaed tearfully into the great library
and dragged Paul Kennard to the full
HIment of his promise. But If his
happiness lay in the solitude and ST.
lente of the writer's den then that
solitude was not going to be broken
IL Nancy could help it.
Inside the drawing-room she was
breaking her heart because she had
been forgotten by her guardian. Her
smiles were radiant and she shyly ac-
cepted the homage offered her from
the masculine element, a homage that
promised a rich harvest of hearts for
Nancy's market.
1t was not until silence reigned
again in the great house and a small
pink rose dropped wearily in Nancy's
strIc el.a Int ~
library door. The quiet of that room
told her that the story was finished
and that ''Nunky" was smoking the
restful cigarette that always followed
the completion of a good days work.
May come in?" she questioned,
already over the threshold
Kennard opened wide his eyes. The
gray frock flung his guilt before
him. 1t had been Nancy's party night
and he had forgotten it. She was still
child in his eyes and he waited for
the outburst of hurt childhood.
II Just wanted to say goodnight"
she said SOFTLY and stroked back the
lock of snow-white hair that lay
across Kennard's broad forehead.
You grow more like your father
every day." he said, in quick appre-
citation of her instructive understand
ing HE was the most unselfish and
considerate man. that ever walked the
earth. I'm sorry. kiddie, that your
old uncle forgot the coming-out party.
could only have 1imped about trying
vainly to Danish my hero and his
woes from my mind. will get you
another string of those beads"
Beads! How dare you call my
matchless pink pearls beads' She
touched the exquisite present from
him that clasped her slender neck.
She looked anxiously at him. You
won't sit up any longer, will you-it's
late now?"
"Only till the cigarette puffs out"
he told her, and watched her slip off
and up to her room.
Kennard sat for a few moments
wearily looking at the door through
which his ward had gone. Gradually
his eyes focused themselves on faded
pink flower that lay just within the.
library door. 1t was the rose Nancy
had worn N her hair.
Kennard rose and picked it up and
returned to HIS desk with 1t. He sat
gazing softly, tenderly at it and, a
second later, his Ups caressed #
tenderly.
No sooner had he touched the
withered flower than he drew back
swiftly. The meaning of his action
went over him like a flame of fire.
"God!" he cried in terror at his own
emotion. mot thati Surely not that
she's only childlv he sat stunned A
Few minutes later his head went for
ward on his arms and the rose was
again against his lips.
Nancy, creeping softly down the
stairs, tried to stifie the beating of her
heart when she glanced swiftly at the
floor Just within the library door.
There was no rose lying there. She
stood for a moment, her great eyes
devouring Kennard's bent shoulders