The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1916-01-06
The Euening Story
His Goal.
(By Keith KENYON. }


/ be turned in at the main office. At
the end of a month, if there was no
claimant, the finder received it as a
sort of guerdon for his honesty.
Reardon had almost forgotten the
parcel until it was handed out to him
Saturday night with his pay envelope.
Here's where you get the wallet of
cash. grinned Malloy, sitting out on
the bench at the side of the car barns,
but Reardon didn't mind. He stood
looking the parcel over. 1t was flat,
about four inches long and nine wide
and perhaps an inch thick.
"Open it, you gink," advised Malloy,
but Jack shook his head good ma
turedly.
It'll keep awhile longer he said.
and swung un op an outbound car for
home. He was a big chap, curly
haired, blue-eyed, with square shout
ders and a straight carriage from his
| two years in the Philippines. Some
day he meant to go back. He'd have
stayed on if they hadn't sent a bullet
through his hip and laid him out.
Some days the old spur touched his
spirit and he wished he were back
with the rest of the boys, days when
he would pass a. parade or hear a band
hit up one of the old airs. But the
doctors had told him to stay out of
doors for a year or so and strengthen
up before he tried it again.
So he had gone to work on the street
cars. 1t was out of door employment
and steady pay and after awhile he
/ meant to go back into the service of
| the colors. Just now he was only
marking time anyhow.
When he had eaten dinner he went
upstairs to his room on the third floor.
1t wasn't a hall room. He was get
| ting his two-eighty-f a day; not so
much, but enough so hhe could pay
/ out five dollars for the third floor
front and have an open CRATE fire
when the furnace lost courage. He
/ had fixed it up, too, with a lot of truck
from the islands, and the other fellows
/ in the house had way of dropping in
/ for a smoke in the evening. Jack
liked it. He was alone in New York.
His folks were up in Maine So he had
4 pitched camp to stay awhile, until
such time as he could go back to the
/ islands.
He opened the package with little
close smile of amusement 1t certainly
/ didn't look like a gold mine. Some of
/ the fellows had been lucky in finding
articles of real value. Then he stopped
short and stared with lowered head
and intent gaze at his treasure trove.
1t was only the picture of a girl in
thralled him with it's beauty and inno-
| cence. She was young and fairly
radiant with springtime hope. She
looked at him from her sparkling yes,
smiled from her parted lips-just the
big glad belief in things, and in him
| particularly.
The next morning, Jack went to
work with a growing feeling that
something was missing in the general
scheme of happiness. All day the
feeling stayed with him. He sat by
himself across the street from the car
barns at his off hour, and went with
/ out his lunch. Finally, that after
noon, Wallace swung up or his car
as it passed Thirty-fourth street. and
Jack looked at the detective with sud-
den interest.
Say, Tom, listen" he said. Sup
pose you only had photograph of
| girl to go by, never had seen her in
your life. How would you find her P"
GO to the man who took the pic
ture and get her name and address.
| Wallace replied. You're a bright
spark of hope. amt you, now?"
1t was noon the next day before
he could do ii. The place was over
on Fifth avenue. 1t took all his cour-
age to go into its ornate doors, tread
its red velvet carpets, face the blonde
young woman at the mahogany desk
under the green and gold electroIier
He laid the picture before her and
asked the name, and the answer came
| back at once, with the slightest uplift
of eyebows:
didn't you hunt for her up at the Mod
els club, F'ifty-eighth street, 1 think it
| is. She isn't q regular patron, you
know she is merely one of our art
/
art firm to be used as the head on one
of their perfume ads. Her name is
Betty Bellairs."
Give me the address of the club,
will you, please ?"
Jack tried 10 speak in the proper
off-hand professional manner, and
wrote down the number almost non
chalantly. Then he went out and
walked up the avenue to the park,
making believe that he was all he
| hoped to be some day. He had been
lazy, non-progreSSiVe, satisfied with a
sure thing. A man needed a goal to
strive for, an aim for his arrows of
ambition. He smiled to himself re-
membering the face in the picture.
At the Art Models club they gave
her address 1t was in the West Six
I ties, five fights up, in a brOWnstone
apartment building in the rear apart
ment- Jack asked for her when the
door opened, and the little ten-year-
old girl who responded turned her
head and called back through the hall
Somebody to see you, Betty"
Come right in called voice that
made Jacks pulse tingle. She was in
the living room, busting it, her long
brown hair in a braid down her back,
and an all-enveloping apron on. But
to Jack she was altogether adorable,
and he stood mute for a minute, look
| ing at her, glorying in her reality.
Then he held out the package.
Il found this and wanted to return
it" he said.
She opened it wonderingly, and
laughed at sight of the contents.
''Oh. it's my Ronteau picture. They
gave me one all for myself, and 1 lost
it on Broadway car. It was ever so
good of you to return it. How did you
find me?"
unravelling it was necessary that he
sit down and then followed the intro