Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1915-09-08
I / H OR
N AN IN
A Story With Heart
Interest :
BY AGNES G. BROCAN

Ole VI laCc, tnlS the cause OF MS un-
finished observation-disclosures, pure old
fashioned homesickness.'
Long ago. as lad, he had realized
this desperate feeling. Now the sound
Of that familiar tongue brought back
a longing to be among his own" which
was almost unbearable, back again In
little old New York." for from her &C.
cent the speaker had also lived in that
vicinity. Bronson whirled about to
look at her. Demure and unaware Of
admiring glances, she sat at a nearby
table, "conspicuously simple in her
close fitting black suit and turban.
Bronson struggled against an uncon-
trollable desire to hear again that soft
voicing Of his mother tongue, then with
a muttered, May II" sank into seat
at the opposite side of the table. The
restaurant being unduly crowded, his
intrusion was calmly taken for grant
ed. Happily absorbed, he gazed at the
lovely, d0wncast face of his companion,
and she, glancing up at last, smiled. A
frank, engaging smile it was, like that
of friendly child.
1.-The salt?' Bronson asked politely,
while the girls smile deepened.
$50 you, too, are American" she said.
All the pentup longings Of the mans
home yearning soul broke forth at her
question.
"American-yes," he answered, ''and
If you could but know the Joy it gives
me merely to be again in the presence
of an American! l might have sought
out my countrymen here, / suppose,
but'-he laughed shortly-"I did not
recognize my need until l heard your
voice."
The girl leaned impulsively forward.
II know" she breathed. "Oh, l know!
For weeks I've been fighting of the
desire to 60 back. Sometimes it was
almost too strong for me. I've got to
stay here, you see. l must, until"-
Until" he prompted gently. The
girl drew back, continuing her meal.
Until I make good" she answered
quietly.
"Student?" the man questioned. She
nodded her head.
'"rhere are so many of u.s. she said
ruefully, "'would be- artists, musicians
mostly failures!'',
"And your"
The girls low laughter ended in a
wry smile. I'm an art failure" she
replied, with shrug of the shoulders.
Brons0n's quick glance was sympa-
thetic. - t~.s-.-. =
perhaps not" he encouraged. BET
ter stick it out little longer and see''
She arose, drawing On her gloves, and
stood looking now on the gloves, now
on him.
II intend to-" she answered brightly.
With visible regret the author also
arose.
pardon the holiness of fellow
American" he entreated, but may l
not hope to see you again.
why not?" the girl carelessly re-
sponded. Il dine here every day."
So it happened that the small table
beneath the window came quite natu-
rally to be place of meeting, place
for the exchange of simple condolences,
for comforting recollections of home
beloved scenes and home happy times
TO the man this one hour was sort of
panacea for all the trials of troubled
day. About it his dreams centered as
reward for nightly hours of writing.
And the girls open pleasure In these
meetings was constant growing Joy.
do you know" she asked in her in
genuous way, II cannot get over the
idea that have known your face be-
fore? 1t was strangely familiar from
the first, and yet
Then David Bronson knew that his
hour Of announcement had come. It
had been a gratifying thing to hide
for time from the paths of fame and
to feel that his unknown personality
had powers Of its own to awaken In.
terest and pleasure. With a sigh he
drew forth his card and placed it be-
fore her. . - -
David B. Bronson" the girl read
aloud, while recollection widened in
her eyes.
Not" she said in tone of awe
mot David Bronson, the author?''
He nodded abruptly. "
"And you are writing book over
here" she went on slowly, "a book
with French setting perhaps and one
Of your wonderful American heroines r
"The heroine" he confessed, proves
disappointment She Is so exactly
what she seems to be commonplace,
no human heart interest"
The girl turned YEARLY aside. His
admission Of greatness seemed all at
once to put him far from her presump-
ton Of friendship.
look about you,' she said. "fou'll
find human heart stories among us
ALL"
Bronson got hastily into his coat
"Just this once" he begged, ''allow me
to walk with you"
Heretofore this request had been re-
fused. Now the girl deliberated.
"You may come" she agreed.
Down the sunlit narrow street they
went, crowds jostling her slim figure
against the shelter Of his arm-ou
through poorer districts and poorer I'M
til where the limit Of dingy shabbiness
seemed to have been reached the girl
paused. t5s
There" -she pointed at the top Of
the tenement-'.is my home.''
Homer the man breathed con-
temptuously; then. with wondering
pity he repeated the word. "Homev'
"Goodby," said the girl and extended