The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1916-07-02
THE SCRATCH PAD
b. THoMAs Ewing DABNEY.

ed her gentlyl
One or two men-but let that pass.
The barkeep found her one drizzly
morning in the archway Of the door.
She looked up into his eyes with an
appeal that went to his heart right
away. Fanny had a way, when
she looked at you, of peering into
your very soul.
A crowd of as nighthawks of the
press used to patronize the old place,
down in the French quarter of the
city; we boarded in some old grandee's
house of another age on Royal street,
and used to drop in for sandwich and
maybe something worse, after the
last page had gone down to the ster-
eotyping room-say half past two or
three. Late as it was, Fanny was
always waiting for US.
At first she used to sit IN chair
but as acquaintance ripened, she
crawled into our laps. She favored
US equally-now in my lap, now with
one of the boys. She had supper with
US every night.
Those were the happy days, happy
for Fanny, happy for us boys-we
were all younger and more innocent
theni
And so the days rolled into weeks
and the weeks became months. And
Fanny grew up and became more
beautiful all the time. Surely moth
ing~was ever half so lovely as the del
icate oval of her face, or the exquisite
tints of the shell-like ears!
But Fanny did not change towards
US in the least.
The love of younger days was not
so quickly forgotten. She still used
to wait for us at night, she still
climbed upon our nees-poor little
untaught thing, she still trustedl
I don't know who noticed it first;
probably the impression had been
building itself in our inner conscious
ness for long time. But all of a
sudden knew that Fanny was differ
ent.
Once as frank as the day is long,
she now developed certain restraint.
She became moody and the barkeep
said she spent long hours looking
out of the window. I believe that he
suspected, but his life rendered him
Indifferent.
Fanny had come to him, motherless,
and he would care for her as long as
she was useful. She was welcome to
a bed under the bar and to what food
she could pick up, and for the rest
a la bonnie heure, as he used to say
struggling and throwing his palms up
ward.
| One night-it was raining hard ]
remember-I happened to look little
closer at Fanny than usual, aud then
/ knew. whispered to the other boys
and they nodded their understanding
The wind howled and the lightning
flashed and the rain poured, and we
finished in silence; Fanny in the chain
at the window, looked out into tbs
reeking night.
No need to dwell on the days that
followed, and our unavailing search
I for him. The place had lost. its
charm. We didn't talk about it
there was no need. Fanny was still
there poor thing, she had no Other
place to go-but she avoided US.
/ The barkeep became meaner anc
meaner to Fanny, who was not 81
useful to him now. One day he made
as if to strike her. 1t was my day
off; I was there, and but no neec
to discuss that. The fellow was {
brute, and maybe didn't know any
better. But he never tried it again
And so, the yesterdays were hung
on the string of Time, and things
went on much as usual.
Followed the stirring days Of tn,
famous German drive on Paris, broker
at the Meuse. Those were the times
when war was a new toy to thu
American public and every newspape.
man did the worls fer three. Otter
we were too dead beat to stop at TIL
Absinthe House, and Fannie gradual
~. drifted out of our minds.
The lull following the great battl
gave US little breathing time, ant
we tried to resume the old life; Fanni
we did not see at all now. We didn'
ask the barkeep about her. We seem
ed to know she was somewhere abou
the premises-how, don't know, bu
: it was our impression.
It was the morning of Thanksgiv
ing, I remember, that the barkee
beckoned to US. He was wreathed i
smiles.
We went over and looked under tn
bar, and there was Fanny, loolinI
so proudly into our faces, and clos
beside her, four beautiful little kit
tens, the living image of thei
mother!