Evening star., 1915-01-12

evening: as soon as he got raise they
would be married and she would give up
her stenographic position. All were busy
engrossed with their own friends and af-
iairs. The landady was a tired, sad
woman who never caught up with her
work.
Adele, coming from work and going
to it used to plan excuses for stopping
one of them for few minutes chat.
She rehearsed little speeches that would
be not too ELUSIVE, yet sort of wedges for
friendship. But you can't grab any one
by the wrist and say: Lovely day, isn't
it. Have you an engagement?' Gra-
cious, the wrist would be half way down
the street before you got through guping
for courage to say it. Such busy, busy
women they were. Adele unconsciously
copied their brisk walk, just as she cop
led, as soon as her pay envelope per-
mitted, their crisp white waists and dark
skirts. That was another difference be-
tween home and here. Back home one
wouldn't be dressed at all in waist and
skirt; here 1t seemed one wasn't proper
ly dressed in anything else. She never
took her pretty thin gowns out Of the
trunk. They didn't fit in the store; they
didn't fit in the modest restaurant where
she took her meals alone; they didn't fit
at the moving picture shows, where she
got in the habit of scurrying each night,
since no other recreation was at hand
They didn't At any place except in a par
lor, nice, roomy, pleasant parlor, with
plenty OF rocking chairs where people
lounged and chatted and never thought Of
rushing; or on a porch where hung a
hammock or at a picnic
Here they were a tantalization. She
had worn one when she first came. She
put it on in the evening and timidly
went down to the rooming house parior
piano. mahogany. but old style make,
several heavy, gloomy upholstered chairs,
dingy lace curtains and dingy Brussels
rug. There she sat patiently, expecting
some others to drop in presently. The
busy, modish blond scooted by and he
street door changed behind her. The
good looking young man in the swagger
blue serge passed, glanced in abstracted-
ly. and then the street door changed be-
hind him. After she had turned the
and over for an hour Adele, with droop-
ing mouth. quietly went up to bed.
What busy place a city was!
She didn't essay the parlor again.
She went to moving picture shows till
her eyes ached from the close work of
every evening. And she was tired.
tired-tired of the bandits daughter
VINO wears strangely up-to-date clothes,
or the knife-thrusting cowboy. tho gal
loplng Indians. some of whom were
pugnosed; of the flirtatious down-trod-
den stenographer.
She went to church. big, imposing
white edif1ce within walking distance.
No one seemed excited by her appear
ance, but the preacher was a forceful
man. SO she did not mind. Anyway, it
rested her eyes to watch the sunshine
filter through stained glass windows,
and 1t broke the monotony Of Sunday.
One Sunday it rained. The preacher
talked about the difficulties encoun-
tered by the Israelites as they jour
neyed through the wilderness. Adele
didn't pity them much. Any wilder
ness. she reflected resentfully, was a
brighter environment than a book
keeper, moderately salaried, could find
in this town. And for once her mind
trailed off from the sermon, only to be
brought back at its close, when the
the hymn. that instead of the usual
evening service there would be held the
first meeting Of the lonesomes. All
those who. being strangers, would like
to meet other strangers for the pur.
pose of mutual benefit and entertain
ment were cordially asked to come to
the church parlors. where coffee and
cake would be served.
Adele changed her mind five times on
she ate. She was lonesome, but she
didn't exactly care to walk into a big
room in front of hundred pairs pos
sibly of critical eyes and announce. the
fact Adele had heard once that peo-
pie with a capacity for friendship draw
friends as flowers draw bees. So the
capacity must be lacking in her, or
some of all the busy people she passed.
The goodlooking young man in
window Of the restaurant just then.
UV1,st hnrpv a vaa Q1wava tint Nam