The Parker post., 1917-02-10
Dorothy's Dime

!
roll of rugs that lay just within.
"Another night has come and that
landlord still lives his evil life," he
called, and from the dimly lighted par
lOr came an answering sniff.
Bert Grayce hung up his coat on the
half-shrOuded hatrack and entered the
room. The furniture was swathed in
/ burlap and excelsior, the piano was
covered with old blankets and other
soft wrappings, and trunks and boxes
were piled with some attempt at order
along the bare walls and upon the
equally bare floor.
On top of the upturned soap box a
group of candles sputtered dismally
their feeble rays serving to accentuate
the absence of gas. atiOn-the
desolation of an exodus-brooded ev-
eryWhere, even upon the face of the
woman who sat in a low rocker beside
the candles and vainly made pretense
of reading.
Hers was lovable face, framed in
masses of silver hair, and Grayce's
smile sOftened and grew more tender
as he bent to kiss the still smooth
forehead.
"Cheer up, mother mine," he said,
laughingly. "All is not yet lost, though
the painters remain on strike. To
morrow the new home will be painted.
BY Saturday we shall be comfortably
settled"
care you sure?" demanded Mrs.
Grayce, wistfully. "If you are, we will
not have the gas turned on again"
'There are electric lights in the new
these nights of Egyptian darkness, and
the next time we move we shall not
order the current turned off until we
are safely out of the house"
''To think that at the last moment,
with all packed and ready to move,
this strike should have come up!" said
Mrs. Grayce, with Il grOan. "Are you
positive, Bert, that the painter you
have engaged will not be won over by
the strikerS?'
"Never more certain of anything in
my life," was the laughing response.
"The painter is no less a person than
your accomplished son. l stopped in
and ordered the paint sent over this
morning. Tomorrow | shall go up and
WELD the brush, so you must wake
and call me early. l must put in full
day"
Bert passed on to his own room,
lighting his way with matches, and
his mother heaved a sigh of relief. For
eight days they had virtually camped
In the apartment they had given up,
waiting for their new quarters to be
finished.
The packers had done their work.
the man had come to cut off the gas
and the moving vans were backed up
to the door when a telephone message
came to the effect that owing to a
strike of the painters, the new rooms
were not yet ready for occupancy.
From day to day the landlord had
done at once, but now a full week had
passed and hope had commenced to
fail until Bert decided to do the work
himself.
He made an early start and eight
o'clock found him in a suit of jeans ap-
plying the paint with as skillful d
brush as though painting were his
regular occupation. He worked rapid
ly and well, and the rooms had begun
to assume habitable aspect when he
heard the hall door open and close and
looked up, expecting to see the land
lord.
Instead, he faced about to encounter
the gaze of a pair of brown eyes which
seemed to pierce his paint-stained jack
ct and give him an oddly queer sensa-
ton about the heart. The possessor
Of the eyes was fragile slip of a girl
whose pure oval face was oddly like
picture by some old master. The
slender form was wholly concealed by
a brown Holland pinafore, and this
was splashed with blue.
$50 you have come," she said at
length. II was beginning to think that
you would be out on strike all winter
| was promised that my floors should
be shellacked first"
"Yes. but" began Bert.
81 want no answers" said the girl,
with a stamp of her tiny foot II am
to have an exhibition day tomorrow,
and the floors must be done by then,
10 you hear?"
yes, maam," said Bert meekly.