The Pulaskian., 1917-04-27

pencil pad and pushed 1t toward him, he replied in kind.
 We are very glad to welcome you to the Mckee family" was what was written on the pad.
 Very happy, indeed, to be with you" wrote back Le Moyne-and realized with sort of shock that he meant it.
 The kindly greeting had touched him. The greeting and the breakfast cheered him also, he had evidently made some headway with Tillie.
 Don't you want toothpickf" she asked, as he went out.
 In Ks previous walk of life there had been no toothpicks; or, if there were any, they were kept, along with the family scandals, in closet. But nearly q year of buffeting about had taught him many things. He took one, and placed it nonchalantly in his waist coat pocket, as he had seen the others do.
 Change was in the very air of the Street that June morning. It was in Harriet, asserting her right to live; in Sidney, planning with eager eyes a life of service which did not include Joe; in K. Le Moyne, who had built up wall between himself and the world, and was seeing it demolished by a deaf-and-dumb book agent whose weapon was a lead pencil padl
 And yet, for a week nothing hap pened. Joe came in the evenings and sat on the steps with Sidney, his hon. est heart in his eyes. Anna, no longer sulky, accepted with childlike faith Sidney's statement that "they'd get along; she had a splendid scheme" and took to helping Harriet in her preparations for leaving. And K. Le Moyne, finding his little room hot in the evenings and not wishing to in- trude on the two on the doorstep, took to reading his paper in the park, and after twilight to long, rapid walks out into the country. The walks satisfied the craving of his active body for ex- ercise, and tired him so he could sleep.
 When K. was sure that the boy had gone, he would turn back toward the Street. Some of the heaviness of his spirit always left him at sight of the little house. It's kindly atmosphere seemed to reach out and envelop. Within was order and quiet, the fresh ness of his turned-down bed, the tidi- ness of his ordered garments.
 Life, that had seemed so simple, had grown very complicated for Sidney. There was her mother to break the news to, and Joe. Harriet would ap- prove, she felt; but these othersl To assure Anna that she must manage alone for three years, In order to be happy and comfortable afterward- that was hard enough. But to tell Joe that she was planning future without him, to destroy the light in his blue eyes-that hurt.
 
 After all, she told K. first. One Fri day evening, coming home late as usual, he found her on the doorstep, and Joe gone. She moved over hospi- tably. The moon had waxed and waned, and the Street was dark. The colored man who drove Doctor Ed in the old buggy on his daily rounds had brought out the hose and sprinkled the street. Within this zone of freshness, of wet asphalt and dripping gutters, Sidney sat, cold and silent.
 "Please sit down. It is cool now. My idea of luxury is to have the Street SprinkIed on a hot night"
 K. disposed of his long legs on the steps. He was trying to fit his own ideas of luxury to garden hose and city street.
 'I'm afraid you're working too hard"
 q? I do a minimum of labor for minimum of wage"
 'But you work at night, don't you?"
 K. was natively honest. He hesitat- ed. Then:
 "No, Miss Page"
 ''But you go out every evening"" Suddenly the truth burst on her.
 "Oh, dear" she said. q do be- lieve-why, how silly of youl"
 K. was most uncomfortable.
 Really, I like it." he protested. 'I hang over a desk all day, and in the evening I want to walk. I ramble around the park and see lovers on benches-it's rather thrilling"
 Quite suddenly Sidney laughed.
 'How very nice you are p she said land how absurd Don't you know that, If you insist on walking the streets and parks at night because Joe Drummond is here, shall have to tell him not to come?"
 This did not follow, to K.'s mind They had rather a heated argument over it, and became much better ac- quainted.
 eff were engaged to him." Sidney ended, her cheeks very pink, 'T-I might understand. But, as I am not"
 "Ah" said K., a trifie unsteadily. "So you are not?"
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