Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1916-01-28


didn't have time to develop RosamHnd.
She can wait; I expect I'll have plenty
of time for her later"
At the infection Flodie turned to
him again with a heartbroken look.
"Oh, Mr.. Bonistelle! Have you-really
made up your mind that She"
Flodie couldn't finish. She choked.
Hall laughed. Lord, made up my
mind! What good would that do? It's
up to them, now. Well, I'm on the
way to buy the ring-and / ought to
get a suit of clothes to go away in
I haven't anything at all to wear"
Flodie bit her lip hard. "Oh, Mr..
Bonistelle!-" was she going to break
down, after all? In despair, her fin
gers few to the keys of her machine.
thy frowns vex G. d. Plumb. Quiz
Jack"
He tapped her playfully with the
tip of his stick. well, I'm off, Flo.
See you tonight. Be here earlyi"
Flodie turned a wretched face to
him. Her eyes were wet.
But | don't know how you want
the rooms decorated, MI. Bonistelle!"
"Oh, l don't care-use your own
taste. It'll be all right. You can do
1t. So long, Floi" And he was off.
Flodie went to the washstand be-
hind the screen and dabbed her eyes
In cold water, then inspected herself
mercilessly in the mirror. A sigh.
She made a face at herself and re-
turned listlessly to work.
But mental occupation was impos-
sible; Flodie had too much on her
mind already. Manual exercise was
what she needed to keep her from
giving up to her misery. There were the
freshly developed plates-she went
into the dark room to get them.
Taking the rack full of glass mega
tives. she emerged and walked into
the office. Busy with melancholy
thoughts of Hall B%onistelle, a shock
awaited her. There was a stranger
in the room.
Mr.. Bonistelle in?"
He was a tall, gaunt, stoopshoul-
dered man, with a long upper lip.
Deep lines, sharp as saw cuts, ran
down his cheeks, and from the ends
of his gashlike mouth. His neck was
fabby, the cords showing like the ribs
of a fan. Rusty provincial garments
hung loosely upon him, draping his
bony body, and in his hands he held a
soft, felt, prehistoric hat. He was not
at all a city person; one almost smelt
salt marshes at low tide, and clans.
His ill-cut hair, too, suggested wet
seaweed.
Flodie, at another time. would have
had trouble in restraining her smile.
Now her heart was too heavy; her
sense of the ridiculous inhibited. She
merely looked him over carelessly,
added him up as some sort of drum
mer person, and replied that her en-
ployer was not in.
"Ain't in, eh?" He looked her over
inquisitively. What be you, anyway,
his wife?" He pierced her with his
little blue eyes.
The words stung her to the quick;
her nerves were all exposed. She
managed her face, however, and re-
piled, mo, I'm his assistant, that's
all. Bookkeeper, sort Of"
He was still watching her shrewdly.
"Ain't going to marry him, be ye?"
F1odie, sensitive as she was, could
not help showing a little of her dis
tress. The color began to rise on her
cheeks. In her embarrassment she
bridled. is that any business of
yours?" she answered In meek resent
ment.
YEP" he said, considerable, as it
happens. Hassingbury's my name.
Jonas B. Amt never heerd o. me, be
ye?"
FIodie gasped. ooh! Not Mr.. Boni-
stelle's cousin Jonas?"
He nodded solemnly. "Fust cousin
once removed"
"Oh," she exclaimed, "Mr. Bonis-
telle will be aWfully sorry to have