Judsonia weekly advance., 1915-05-05
EARNING 4 TR0USSEAU By MAUD BEASLEY.
:TfiTaTaTaTaT aEaTsN NsE EsT TsH HIaT sEaE EaI IsIaTsE


Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman)
 Simmonds, the owner of the chain of stores, was a man between sixty and seventy years of age. He had a fringe of white whiskers under his chin, he was not particularly well groomed or spruce; in short, he was not in the least the kind of elderly gentleman who would attract the af- factions of pretty girl of twenty.
 Lizzie had secured her position the first day she looked for one. She had come up from the country, and when she had saved up the price of a trous- seau-a really elegant one-she meant to let George Robbins, at present em- pioyed in their home town as mana ger of little local store, lead her to the altar.
 Simmonds certainly appeared inter- ested in Lizzie. Before the girl had been in the store month he had already contrived to have her sum- moned to his private office at least a dozen times.
 How would you like to act as my stenographer, Miss Holt?" he inquired upon the last of these occasions.
 T don't know much about stenog- raphy,' admitted Lizzie. But I could learn, l suppose" she added, think ing of the increased salary and the improved trousseau that would re- suit therefrom.
 Well, I'll tell you what I'll do" said the old man, staring at, her in a way that brought the bushes to her cheeks. ''I'll pay for you to learn at the night school on the next block. Then when you are competent, maybe there will be place for you in here!"
 The stenography lessons were a failure. Lizzie made no progress at all. Her vain little head was filled with the thought of the rousseau, and the hooks would turn the wrong way, and the consonants turn themselves into impossible angles. Meanwhile Lizzie continued at the store. Sim mond's attentions were now the talk of everyone. Lizzie could stand it no longer.
 Well. I'm going in to resign" de, clared Lizzie, and stalked toward the private office.
 The girls waited. Exactly at the noon hour Lizzie emerged, a bright crimson, by the side of Simmonds, whose arm was drawn through hers. Down the aisle they walked, Lizzie nriU i'm oil turned on her. So they went into the street, and Bill, the boy who swept up, reported at one o'clock that they were having dinner at Haffney's.
 Lizzie Holt's vain and childish mind was fairly turned by her em- ployer's attentions. She spent the afternoon careless of the black looks of all around her. She was living over that delicious hour again. MT. Simmonds certainly was a gentleman, even if he was old. But that night, when the reaction had come, the girl faced the problem in her room alone more seriously than she had ever faced anything.
 She was not so ignorant of life but that she could see the meaning of her employers maneuvers. But she was ignorant enough to feel helpless She could not face the crowd in the store again. Either she must be true to George Orwell, she saw the alter native quite plainly as the hours wore away. And to her credit the thought of George triumphed
 The next day she left her rooming house and engaged a room in anoth- CT. She did not return to the store. She obtained a position with Mar shalpS, and in a week she had con- pletely forgotten the incident, except that she felt a little proud of herself as the heroine of quasi-adventure.
 Then one day a familiar figure en- tered He was an old gentleman with 8 fringe of white beard, and he was accompanied by very motherly look ing old lady. They came slowly up to the perfumery counter. Simmonds looked up, to encounter Lizzie's fright ened eyes fixed on his.
 Why, bless my soul, it's Miss Holt" Here, mother! This is the young lady I was telling you about, who disappeared so mysteriously from the store.''
 The motherly woman came up to Lizzie.
 My husband has been talking to me so much about you," she said. q am sorry you went away. But I up- derstand how you felt. You see, Her. man is little abrupt and strange ip his ways. Go away, Herman! I am going to talk to Miss Holt now
 You see, my dear" she continued, i've lost our only daughter a year ago, and Herman was passionately devoted to her. And after you got to working in the store he came home and said to me, Mother, one of our new young ladies is the very image of poor Lucille.
 "I told him that it must be imag- ination, but he kept talking about you and so I promised him that I would call and see you. You know Her man is always interested in his young